


malec college au

by thewarlocksbitch



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, TMI - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Malec, Malec AU, Malec Fluff, malec college au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-04-08 10:10:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4300758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewarlocksbitch/pseuds/thewarlocksbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>all characters belong to CC</p></blockquote>





	1. mc ch 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all characters belong to CC

Alec’s dorm hall had to be the most depressing thing he had ever seen. He was attempting to walk down it, albeit rather unsuccessfully; he couldn’t seem to stop tripping over crumpled up papers and flattened cardboard boxes. 

He was beginning to wonder if this hallway was a metaphor for his reluctance to come here; Alec could go through all this mess, get a sticky note stuck to the sole of his sneaker, and come up with nothing. 

“Are you sure we’re in the right hall?” He asked, looking over his shoulder at Jace, who was looking faintly greenish under the dim lighting. 

Jace, Alec noted with some annoyance, seemed unperturbed by the hallways state. “Yeah,” he said, shifting the stack of boxes in his arms. He pointed across the hall. “Right there.” 

Alec squinted his eyes at the door, then looked down at the paper in his hand. _Dorm C, room 817._

“Oh,” he said, walking over. “That’s it.” 

Jace followed Alec, letting out low groans every few seconds just to piss him off. 

“You have got to have more boxes than that.” Jace said, awkwardly leaning against the wall as he tried to balance the mountain of boxes stacked precariously in his arms. It wobbled threateningly. 

Alec jiggled his key in the lock, glancing up at the chipped lettering on the door as he tried to make the stubborn mechanism give. He easily balanced the few boxes he held against him with one arm. 

“I didn’t overpack like you did, so no, I don’t.” He said, throwing his shoulder against the door to make it pop open. 

“You would never survive in the wild.” Jace said. 

Alec ignored him and stepped into his new room, letting the door swing wide; Jace stayed outside the door but poked his head in, looking around. 

“Why do you get your own room?” He asked. “I get a weird roommate that probably smells like old mothballs and collects toenails, and you get your own room.” 

Alec bit his lip and shook his head. 

He knew that having his own room was the result of his father trying to make him more cooperative in attending college. He knew it was the result of his father pushing things around with the school, making everything nice and settled so that his son wouldn’t be able to complain. 

And how could Alec complain? He had his own living space, and his father had even let him choose a few classes. 

But that didn’t change the fact that Alec had no choice in the rest of this. 

He looked back at Jace, trying to smile and knowing that it was weak. But Jace, eyes on something in his hand, didn’t notice. 

Alec liked looking at Jace when he didn’t realize. When he wasn’t trying to put up his public facade and be someone else; when he was like _this,_ he was just _Jace._

His blond hair was falling in looping tendrils over his eyes, revealing them only enough to show the crinkles beside them.  
It made him look vaguely distressed, and it made Alec want to hug him, or maybe kick him. 

Alec set his boxes down on a bare mattress against the wall and wiped his clammy hands on his jeans. 

He didn’t know what he wanted. 

Jace looked up. 

Alec looked away. 

“Have you even met him? Or her?” Alec inquired. “Your roommate, I mean. I don’t really know how this all works.” 

“Co-ed dorms _would_ be fun, but no, they don’t exist - not here, at least. And I haven’t met him.” Jace admitted. He glanced down at a paper in his hand. “But that always happenes in movies, and his names Jordan. Jordan’s are always messed up.” 

Jace loved to be melodramatic, Alec knew, and he didn’t have the time or energy for it.  
“Jordan’s are fine. Go get the rest of your boxes, once you’re finished we can go get something to eat.” 

Jace grinned, just big enough to show his chipped incisor. “Chipotle?” He asked. 

They had spotted a number of food trucks parked near campus on the way here; Jace seemed to think that _Chipotle_ was a synonym for _tacos._

“Chipotle.” Alec confirmed. He turned back to the boxes and began to peel the tape off of them. “Hurry.” 

Jace muttered something obscene and left. 

The door shut with a soft _click,_ and the sound triggered a release in Alec’s mind.  
He was alone.  
Alec looked around the room, an errant stab of unease flooding his chest as allowed himself to let his pent up thoughts cycle. 

He had never thought of himself as the college type. 

From the time he was little, he had always dreamt of moving someplace like New Orleans or New York after high school and buying a small building with the money he had saved for years. 

He could sell his art and give classes. Maybe meet people who valued and appreciated art in the way he did. 

Painting, along with sculpting and poetry writing, had always been Alec’s favorite forms of art; he loved the simple elegance of them all, loved being able to capture his emotions in a work through a flick of his finger or a pressure in his palm so that someone else might understand, or even see their own feelings reflected back at them. 

It was what he loved, what he had been born for. 

Alec could easily see himself spending every day behind an easel, surrounded by his artwork and looking up only when a customer was announced by the faint ring of a bell. 

Maybe he would never make it as an artist, but it was all he wanted to try. 

Alec could see himself trying. 

But as he dropped his bags to the floor of his new room and closed the door behind him, he couldn’t help but feel like everything was terribly out of place, like the life he had been working towards had suddenly been stolen from him. 

Alec leaned against the wall and looked disinterestedly around the room. It was illuminated by a small window overlooking the front of the campus, and pale strands of the afternoon sunlight fell through the scratched glass and lit the walls to a colorless yellow. 

The room was bare save for an ancient looking desk, bedframe, and mattress. They were against opposite walls; when Alec walked between them, he just fit. 

He walked back to the door, the floor creaking under his feet as he bent to pick up his bags. 

The door opened suddenly, and Alec had to scramble backwards to advoid being hit. 

“Hey,” Jace said, stepping in and looking down at Alec. “Get up. I locked myself out of your car.” 

“How?” 

“I sort of closed it with the keys inside,” Jace said slowly. 

“Again.” Alec finished for him. 

“Yeah. Come on.” Jace said. 

“I want to unpack.” Alec argued. 

“You don’t have anything to unpack.” Jace pointed out, and Alec groaned and got to his feet. 

“Really? Again.” He said, following Jace out of the room. He closed the door and jogged after Jace down the hall; it was flooded with students now, and Alec had to weave around strangers more than once. 

He had countless memories of all the times Jace had locked himself out of his car; an embarrassing count on Jace’s part considering that Alec had only had the car for a few weeks.  
Alec had given Jace a set of keys sometime last week in hopes of preventing these trips, but that had obviously been a lost cause. 

Jace pressed the button of the elevator and tapped his foot as the numbers changed. 

The door opened and they both stepped in. 

Alec bit his lip. He actually _did_ have a few more boxes - the ones full of his favorite books and paints and pictures - that he wanted to keep in the car, holding onto the hope that his father would relent and tell him to come home. 

He wasn’t ready for this campus to become home. He wasn’t ready for any of this. 

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime and Alec followed Jace out of the commons room and to the parking lot, desperately trying not to make eye contact with anyone. 

He trained his gaze on Jace’s back instead, watching the way his muscles moved under his t-shirt and the way his slim hips swayed slightly when he walked. 

His golden hair was somehow perfect, falling in lazy curls all around his neck and to his shoulders; it made Alec want to take care of his own, though he couldn’t remember whether he had packed a hairbrush. 

He ran a hand through his hair self-consciously and had to pull his fingers free of the tangles. 

He could almost hear Isabelle saying, _Are you going to do anything with that, Alec? I know this is insane, and I’m just thinking out loud here, but have you ever considered brushing it?_  
Alec tied his hair up into a bun on top of his head, and he reminded himself to thank his sister later. 

Jace turned and looked at him. “Keys,” he said, holding a hand out. 

“You’ll lose them,” Alec told him, and dug them out of his pocket. 

They had reached the car. Alec clicked the unlock button, and the car happily honked. 

The car was new and sleek, and so expensive that it made him uncomfortable to even look at it.  
It was a BMW, Alec knew, but he wasn’t interested in knowing the specifics of it; it simply wasn’t something he cared about. 

Why not a motorcycle?  
Alec would have loved to have a motorcycle. 

Alec glared at the car. The car glared back. 

_It’s just another persuasion tactic,_ he told himself. 

Alec hadn’t wanted to apply for college; he _didn’t_ apply for college. 

His dad had sent in an application form without telling him and given him the car when the acceptance letter came in; his own twisted idea of a gift. 

Maybe his father really didn’t know better. Maybe he thought he was doing Alec a favor. 

“Now that I think of it,” Alec said slowly, pulling the door open and reaching into the back while Jace grabbed his things from the trunk. “I do have a few boxes.” 

He figured that he might as well make the best of things while he was here. 

Jace looked at him through the window. “Do they, by any chance, contain essential things human beings need to live?” 

“Paints and photos,” Alec said, and when Jace made a pained noise, he added, “and a coffee machine!” 

Jace shook his head and dropped a few boxes to the floor. “Are those allowed?” 

“Hopefully,” Alec said, pulling a few boxes into his arms and getting out; he closed the car and locked it, not without difficulty. 

Jace picked up his boxes, and Alec followed him back to the dorm building. 

* * *

After Jace had left to his room, Alec pushed his way into his own and dropped his boxes onto his bed beside the others, his arms aching. 

He looked down at them all for a moment, then let out a deep breath and opened the first box. 

From the folds of an old sweater, he  
pulled out an old polaroid, the picture it captured so scratched and diminished that he might not be able to make it out if he hadn’t already looked at it enough to commit every detail to memory. 

It was taken the day Max was born; Alec sat on a giant armchair in the hospital room, his untidy black hair sticking up in every direction, long arms crossed in his lap, too short pajama sleeves exposing awkward bony wrists. 

Isabelle sat cross-legged next to him, her hair tied back into a messy braid, small fists pulling at Alec’s sleeve as she tried to lean over him and see the infant being held out to them. 

Max was only a small blur of flame-red blanket and soft pink skin, his swollen eyes closed and tiny fingers curled around the sleeve of their fathers jacket. 

_Max…_

Alec swallowed hard, carefully set the polaroid on his desk, and turned back to the boxes. 

He unpacked everything and was perfecting the placement of his easel in front of the window when a knock sounded at the door. 

“Jace?” Alec called, straightening his case of paints and brushes on the easel’s rim. 

He crossed the room and swung the door open. “Jace, I’m not-” Alec cut himself off. 

Jace stood there, his hands in his pockets, leaning against the doorframe. A boy was next to him, looking at Alec and smiling expectantly, reminding him of a hopeful puppy. 

“Oh,” Alec said, feeling his cheeks burn. He hated meeting people without any warning. The boy - Jace’s roommate, Alec guessed - was tall and tan, with dark hair falling over his forehead and neck in careless curls. He stood lazily, like he might fall over, and had an odd, eager openness about him that made Alec feel a little uncomfortable. 

Alec dropped his gaze to the boys arms and looked at the tattoos circling them; they were written in all black ink, and looked to be in some ancient language. 

“You must be Jordan.” Alec said, feeling like he should offer his hand but not being able to. 

The boy - Jordan - nodded. He smiled politely. “And you must be Alec?” He asked, cocking his head to the side so that his hair fell across his eyes. 

Alec just smiled thinly and looked to Jace. 

“Hungry?” Jace said, and after a moment Alec realized he was asking him, not Jordan. 

Alec met Jace’s eyes, and they seemed to be pleading. 

Alec nodded slowly and closed the door, watching Jace’s eyes track his movements, almost worriedly.  
Jace knew a little about Alec’s problems with his father, though Alec was careful to shield him from it. 

_Jace_ was trying. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Alec said, trying to smile. “Dinner sounds great.” 

He looked to Jace, and Jace grinned at him and turned to head down the hall, with Jordan trailing after him. 

Staring down at his feet, Alec followed. 


	2. mc ch 2

Magnus questioned, not for the first time in his life, how things like this kept happening to him. 

He was standing in the middle of his brand new and impossibly wrecked apartment, staring at the destruction all around him and wondering how he was always such a cliché. 

When he had told people that he was going to college, it was the first thing they mentioned: the partying. 

It had angered Magnus that that was all they cared about, that no one excitedly gushed about his future in learning and discovering and experiencing everything that he had worked so hard towards.

Yet here he was. 

Not even the first day of the semester, and his apartment was already ruined with the after effect of one of the wildest parties he had ever thrown. 

Not one area was left untouched. Crumpled plastic cups lay everywhere, dripping cheap alcohol; on the counters, the table, the floor, on unpacked boxes of Magnus’s stuff.  
A torn t-shirt and shoe hung from a shaking ceiling fan, and Magnus was almost certain that his coverlet was stuffed into the sink. 

He couldn’t be surprised, though, considering that this had been happening for years; it was why he went through so many foster homes. 

It was inevitable. Within a week of being in a new home, he always ended up throwing a huge party, ruining his foster parents home, and getting thrown back at the state with a _not my problem_ note (and maybe a strongly worded letter). 

Magnus couldn’t control it: it was like throwing a surprise party for himself. 

He smiled, remembering. He had no responsibilities then, not a care for anyone or anything in the world, with no one and nothing to call his own.  
He had floated through life, never worrying, but never straying from his one true goal: getting himself a life of his own. 

He knew that he didn’t need a family. His father had taught him that much. 

All he knew was that he needed himself. 

Going to college was his master plan, the one thing that would make everything right. Magnus could see the path of his life clearly laid out for him, with everything planned perfectly, with the world waiting. 

He had decided exactly how his life would play out years ago, with no unexpected occurrences, with nothing left to chance. 

He formed The Plan when he was eleven. After four years of being tossed back and forth between foster homes and the state, after numerous sleepovers with potential families always ending with a re-packed suitcase and a social-workers cold hand on his shoulder, Magnus decided to devote himself, along with all of his energy and time, to his studies and future. 

Well, _almost_ all of his energy and time; it was only in his nature that he still had the _occasional_ party. 

He looked around his apartment for a moment, the word _home_ whirling around his head, bubbling in the back of his throat.  
It was a strange word, a strange feeling. 

Magnus stared at the boxes lining the walls, at his bag beside the door, at the glimpse of his bedframe in the other room. 

_This is what I have,_ he thought, a strange tightness in his chest. _This is how I start._

But he knew that he couldn’t start anything if he couldn’t even make himself clean his apartment. 

Knowing that they wouldn’t help and only wanting to procrastinate, Magnus called his friends to beg for help. 

Catarina answered after two rings.  
“Wonderful Catarina,” Magnus said when she picked up, putting on a bright, cheery voice that he knew would only annoy her.

“Magnus,” she replied sleepily, but nicely, when Ragnor or Raphael might have already hung up.

Magnus bent down to pick up a few beer bottles, and tossed them to a corner that he designated as the trash corner.

“How’s your first day on campus going, my lovely friend?” He asked.

Catarina’s soft laugh echoed in his ear. “Good,” she said. “I unpacked, set everything up for my first classes tomorrow, and now I’m in my new and very uncomfortable bed reading.”

“Why so uncomfortable?” Magnus asked, with genuine interest. 

Catarina sighed. “It’s a long and sad story, but the short version is that goodwill doesn't carry mattresses that are less than a century old. But it's a bed, at least."

She paused for a moment. Magnus heard the faint turn of a page, and an ominous creak as she shifted position. He knew what she was thinking. 

_It's a bed, at least. It's_ my _bed._

Magnus reached up to yank the shirt and shoe from his fan, but then left them, deciding that they gave the room character. 

"I don't even have a bed yet, so you're doing better than I am." He told her.

He swept a few cups from the counter to the floor, and kicked them to the trash corner. 

Catarina made a noise. “What are you doing?” She asked. “It sounds like you broke something.”

Magnus laughed. “A lot of things were broken today, but they were not specifically broken by _me._ ” 

Catarina let out a frustrated groan. “Seriously? A party. It’s the first day, Magnus. How did you even manage-” 

“It wasn’t my fault!” Magnus exclaimed, attempting to straighten a broken lamp with his foot.  
“Honestly, Catarina. These things just happen. I don't know how. I was completely helpless in the situation. And everyone's gone, and I have a headache, and my apartment is trashed...” He spoke the last word lightly, hopefully and pleadingly.

“Magnus,” Catarina said.

“Yes?” He smiled into the phone.

“You need help,” she said, "badly." The line went dead.

Magnus pulled his phone away from his ear and stared at it, frowning but feeling like he might laugh.  
“I need _your_ help,” he said to himself, already dialing Ragnor’s number. 

Ragnor didn’t answer.  
Magnus dialed again, and again, and again, then finally gave up and switched to Raphael; a desperate move. 

“Hello,” Raphael said when he picked up, formal as ever.

“Hey,” Magnus said. He began to lazily pace the room, kicking bottles and cups to the trash corner when he came across them.

“So,” Magnus began, taking a deep breath. With Raphael, you had to get things over with quickly and hope for the best. “I had this party and now my apartment’s wrecked and I'm a little drunk, and, completely unrelated to that, do you want to come over? I have those gummy snacks you like.” 

Raphael hated fun and childish things; snacks shaped and colored like animals were most definitely sorted into that category. Magnus loved fun and childish things, his favorite being bothering Raphael about his hate for them.

Raphael was silent for a moment, then he sighed, long and low and annoyed. Magnus could practically hear the other boy rolling his eyes.

“Dios,” Raphael said finally, his voice clipped. “Do you think that I do not have better things to do than helping you clean up after yourself?”

"Actually," Magnus said, "I don't think there's a better way that you could spend your time."

“No, Bane. I am busy with things more important than fixing the consequences of your idiotic choices.” 

"What could you possibly be doing?"

_"Things."_

Magnus groaned and closed his eyes. “You’re twelve,” he halfheartedly muttered, before hanging up and pathetically laying down on the floor, his every limb feeling heavy as if weighted with lead. 

This was _not_ how he wanted his first day on campus to end, with a murderous headache and trashed apartment.  
He hadn’t even managed to get a hot frat boy’s number, which was disappointing. 

After contemplating his options for what Magnus supposed may have been hours, he was saved from the fate of spending all of his savings on a cleaning crew by a knock at the door. 

He walked over, opened it, and, seeing who it was, blinked in surprise and welcomed his friend in with a grand sweep of his arm. 

“I took pity on you for being so dim-witted,” Raphael said, dropping his brown and deathly boring bag to the floor and walking through the doorway, leaving Magnus to roll his eyes and shut the door. 

He always found himself mildly dumbfounded when he was around Raphael; it was a strange feeling to be bossed around and insulted by a fifteen year old college student. 

“You sure know how to make a guy feel special,” Magnus said, grinning at the back of his friends narrow, boyish shoulders. 

Raphael muttered something obscene under his breath and kicked at a discarded beer bottle, sending it spinning across the floor to clang against a wall. 

“You could have aimed for the trash corner,” Magnus mumbled. 

Raphael ignored this. 

“I don’t understand how you managed to throw one of your ridiculous parties within, what, two hours of being on campus?” He said, and turned to face Magnus, his features twisted into something like disappointment; Magnus felt oddly scolded. 

Magnus held his hands up, as if in surrender. “Honestly, I don’t understand either.” He smiled brightly, and bent to pick up an empty beer bottle. He held it out to Raphael like a peace offering. 

“Pity my poor, slightly drunken soul, and help me clean up? The mess is really not that bad anymore. Being turned down by my friends really makes me more efficient.” 

The corner of Raphael’s mouth curved up slightly, but only for a moment before it went flat again, so that Magnus wondered if he had imagined it. 

Raphael seemed to think for a moment, then shook his head. 

“As entertaining as that sounds,” he said, walking back towards the door. “Ragnor and I have planned to go and eat, so, no.” 

He picked up his bag, swung the door open, and, without another glance at Magnus, left. 

Magnus dropped the beer bottle to the floor. “Have fun on your _date!_ ” He called, smiling despite his annoyance. 

It only made sense that his high-school friend, the sadistic, sarcastic, and endlessly rude 15 year old prodigy, would immediately hit it off with his _foster brother_ and proceed to form the most annoying pair in the history of the universe. 

They were always having “meetings” and Magnus was sure that their conversations were centered around how stupid they found him. 

He could just imagine Raphael _skipping_ up to Ragnor, ordering a couples meal, and then launching into the story of the great mess Magnus had gotten himself into and how hilarious it all was. 

Magnus laughed a little to himself and pushed the thought away, forced back into reality by his increasingly painful headache. 

His phone chimed, announcing a new text message. 

It was Raphael. 

_'We're going out to eat' is my inviting you out. How stupid can you be? Do you want me to send flowers?_

A second later, another came.

_I'm not doing that. Come on. I'm at the stairs._

Magnus shook his head and smiled dumbly at the screen. He grabbed his bag and looked to the still-open door.  
He told himself that clean apartments were overrated, dialed Catarina’s number, and left his room in search of his friends and food. 


	3. mc ch 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all characters belong to CC

The hallway was completely empty. 

Normally, this would have delighted Alec, and he might have let himself relax, might have felt the knot in his stomach fade away. 

But this wasn’t a good thing. 

The hallway was empty because every other student was in class. It was empty because Alec had woken up late and had rushed out the door before he could even see clearly. 

_And_ he hadn’t even had time to make his morning coffee, which was just bad taste. 

He turned a corner now, tripping as he tried to simultaneously read the crumpled schedule clutched in his hand and navigate the complicated corridor. 

He rushed past numerous classrooms, hoping to every higher power in the universe that no one could see him. 

A number flashed in the corner of his eye, and Alec skidded to a halt. 

_Room 078_

Alec closed his eyes for a moment and let out a long breath, trying to swallow down the rapid beat of his heart, trying to push it down to his stomach, where he might be able to lock it up and calm it down. 

He placed his hand on the doorknob, practicing the words in his head. 

_Professor, I’m-_  
Alec bit his lip.  
_I didn’t want to- I tried-_

Alec sighed; he couldn’t even form a coherent apology in his head. 

Letting out another shaky breath, he pushed his way in. 

The room immediately quieted, and Alec felt himself flush as a hundred eyes flickered to him.  
Trying to ignore the other students, he looked towards the teachers desk, found it to be empty, then glanced back towards the students, all of which had resumed their conversations and forgotten his presence. 

All but one. 

There was a boy staring at him, his strange, dancing amber-green eyes boring into Alec’s and making every nerve under his skin jump, from all the way across the room. 

Alec dropped his gaze to his feet, willing himself to act like a normal human being. 

“Blue eyes!” He heard, and jerked his head up, startled. 

It was the boy, still looking at him, his voice somehow carrying over all the other student’s voices and turning them to static. 

Alec raised his eyebrows, taking a moment to marvel at the fact that he had managed to hold a strangers attention for so long. 

He opened his mouth to speak, and tasted only nervous dryness in his mouth. 

“Professor’s not here yet,” the boy called. He was standing half out of his chair, glancing towards the door. He grinned. “Even later than you.” 

He patted the seat in front of him, and Alec caught the flash of a ring on one of his long, tanned fingers. 

Alec stared for a moment, and, swallowing down his embarrassment, he stumbled towards the offered seat, grateful that he only had to walk between two rows of strangers before sinking into it. 

He dropped his bag to his feet and stared rigidly ahead. 

A breath, warm and tickling, stirred against the back of his neck. 

“Hi,” The boy said, and Alec tried to refrain from jumping. 

He turned around, careful to keep watch on the door in case the professor came in. 

The boy was leaning over his desk and propping his head up with one hand. 

“I’m Magnus,” he said. 

Alec nodded stiffly and swallowed, trying the name out in his mouth and shaping it silently. _Magnus._

After watching him for a moment, Magnus cocked his head to the side and grinned. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” 

“Oh. I’m- I’m Alec.” Alec said, "hi."  
There was something in Magnus’s expression, something hiding behind the gleam of his eyes, that made Alec feel unsettled, like he might set off invisible trip wires by saying something thoughtless or making the wrong expression. 

Alec was very aware of the position of his mouth, of his eyes; tight, anxious.  
The slight movement of his Adam’s apple when he swallowed felt like a rock rolling under his skin.  
His pulse was an earthquake, making his jaw ache. 

“Alec,” Magnus tried, tapping his fingers along his cheekbone.  
“Yeah, sorry,” Alec said, shaking his head. “I was just- I was worried about the professor-” 

“And there she is.” Magnus said, nodding towards the front of the room and leaning back in his chair. 

Alec spun around in his desk, his eyes settling on a woman that was crossing the floor and coming to lean against the podium. 

“Professor Fircharr,” She said, by way of greeting, giving a small bob of her head towards the gathered students. She didn’t give an excuse for being late; Alec supposed that it may be her tactic for setting suspense. 

Whatever it was, he was grateful that she had arrived after him; this class was one of the only ones that Alec truly cared about. 

“History of Art,” The professor said, crouching over the podium and peering at the class as if she were telling a secret. 

Alec leaned forward, almost against his will, like the professor was already and effortlessly pulling him in. 

A soft sigh sounded behind him, and Alec shifted in his seat, so that he was almost leaning back, towards Magnus. 

He was torn between paying attention to the class and spiting his father.  
He was torn between letting himself succumb to the quiet, burning presence behind him, or to play safe - to stay uninvolved. 

“This class will yield a different outcome for all of you. Some may find their interest in the old arts, or the modern, or a mix of them. You may be interested in poetry, photography, animation, or sculpting. There are many forms of arts, and all are unique and complex in their own way. All require skill and dedication. You might become infatuated with one artist in particular, or appreciate them all.  
“It is beyond my reach to determine what you’ll gain from this class; that’s up to you. I’ll tell you all right now that I’m not going to bother myself with anyone that won’t commit to their studies. I don’t mind if this class is just a credit for you, or if you really couldn’t care less about the arts. But you need to put in some effort.” 

She paused for a moment, her words hanging in the silence of the awed students.  
The professor grinned.  
“Let’s begin.”

__________

Once class was dismissed, Alec didn’t rush to leave - he didn’t have any other classes to worry about.

By the time that he had shouldered his backpack and stood to leave, the room, save a few students lagging behind, was completely empty. 

Alec was still surprised at how easy class had been; he hadn’t been forced to speak even once.

He had been almost amazed when he felt himself begin to breathe regularly, when he had become comfortable. Intrigued, even, if only mildly. 

He already knew that he wouldn’t learn anything from this class; he had practically studied the history of art by himself, over the course of his years. 

Still, it excited him to be in a group with others, discussing the one thing he truly loved. _Art._

He leaned against the wall in the hallway now, just beside the classroom door, tilting his head back, closing his eyes and running the introductory lecture over in his head. 

He hoped that this class might make college worth his time. Might make it more than something to please his father. 

“Hey, Alec,” 

_Oh,_ Alec thought, and he opened his eyes, immediately standing up straight. 

“M-Magnus,” he stammered. Magnus was slightly taller than him, which _never_ happened, and Alec had to crane his neck back to look into his eyes. 

He had been too nervous before to really look at Magnus, but he now let his eyes wander over the other boy’s face, lingering over the slight curve of his eyes, the sharp line of his jaw, on the delicate bow of his lips.

Alec was completely transfixed, suddenly taken by the overwhelming urge to reach out and trace the long slope of Magnus’s nose, to press the pads of his fingers at the corners of his eyes, where onyx paint was perfectly drawn. 

He had never met anyone like… This. Words escaped him like water through frantic fingers. 

Magnus smiled, like he already knew more than Alec wanted him to. Alec coughed and ducked his head, backing away and forcing himself to think.  
_This is a stranger,_ he told himself, _not a piece of art marvel over and study._

He met Magnus’s eyes again. 

“Alexander,” Magnus said, his eyes slowly moving to the ground, then back to Alec’s face.  
It took Alec a moment to realize that Magnus was _looking_ at him. In the way that no one had ever done before, in the way that made him feel unsteady on his feet. 

Alec bit his tongue, trying to cull all the thoughts in his head into one coherent sentence. 

“I didn’t tell you my name was Alexander.” 

“Guessed.” Magnus said. He cocked his head to the side, his eyes squinted. “ _And_ you have a little name-tag tied to your bag.” 

He reached over and touched the multicolored, extremely obnoxious tag on his bag, and Alec flushed, silently cursing his sister. 

“I do?” was all he managed, and Magnus dropped his hand with a laugh. 

He shifted closer to Alec.  
“Alexander, do you-” 

“Magnus!” 

Alec snapped his head up to see a girl pushing her way through the crowd, her eyes excited and intent on Magnus. 

_His girlfriend,_ Alec thought, disappointment unfurling in his chest; he frowned, sure that he had no right to the feeling. 

“Catarina,” Magnus greeted, leaning down to hug the girl as she ran into his side.  
Alec leaned against the wall, unsure if this was his dismissal. 

It was obvious to him now that Magnus was only being nice to him.  
A student taking pity on his nervous, disoriented classmate. What else could he have expected? 

Catarina stepped out from underneath the crook of Magnus’s arm and smiled at Alec. “Who’s this?” She asked, offering her hand. 

“This is Alexander,” Magnus said, and Alec shook Catarina’s hand quickly, her palm cool against his clammy one. 

“Alec,” he said, and dropped her hand. 

Catarina gave him a sly smile and raised her eyebrows at Magnus. 

“Want to go for a quick lunch?” She asked him, tossing her pale hair over her shoulder.  
She lowered her voice. “I just can’t _wait_ to hear about your first class.” 

Magnus rolled his eyes and offered her his arm. “Lunch sounds great,” he said, and winked at Alec. “See you around, Alexander.” 

Alec was glad that the two were already turning away; he didn’t think he had it in himself to stutter out another word. 

He turned to head back to his dorm, and almost fell over as someone collided into him. 

“Am I invisible now?” Jace asked, disentangling himself from Alec’s fumbling limbs and stepping back, seemingly unhurt.  
Alec stared at him for a moment; he had completely forgotten about Jace. 

That was a first.

“Ouch,” he said, rubbing his collarbone where Jace’s forehead had jarred it. 

Jace peered over his shoulder. 

“Who was that?” He asked. 

Alec blinked. “Who?” 

“That guy you were talking to. He must have been pretty interesting, considering that I yelled at you twice and _then_ you ran into me.” 

“No one,” Alec hastened, pushing past Jace and towards what he hoped was the dorms. He couldn't remember the direction he had run from this morning. 

Jace shrugged and followed after him. 

“Hey, are we still seeing Izzy tonight?” He asked. 

Alec winced; he had forgotten about his sister, too. 

“I haven’t talked to her,” he admitted. 

They had reached their dorm building, and Alec adjusted the straps of his bag as they stepped into the elevator. 

He jabbed a finger into the button for their floor, and stared at the shifting colors and numbers as they moved up. 

“Well,” Jace said, after a moment, fumbling in his pocket for his phone. He swiped at the screen as he talked. “There’s this party that some guys Jordan knows are throwing, and I was thinking that-” 

“Isabelle is _not_ going to some frat party,” Alec interrupted, and started forward as the elevator doors opened with a soft _ping._

“That’s obviously not what I meant,” said Jace, sounding exasperated.  
“I _meant_ that maybe we could, you know, reschedule, and see Iz another night. You have tons of homework anyways, don’t you?” 

_No,_ Alec almost said, but only ducked his head.  
“Yeah,” he lied, turning to his room door and looking down at his shoes while he dug around in his pockets for his key. 

Jace hit him familiarly on the shoulder. “Great, I’ll text her.”  
Alec opened the door and hung onto the knob. 

Jace turned, already heading towards his room. “I’ve got class, so I’ll see you later?” 

“Sure,” Alec said, dropping his bag to the ground, walking into his room, and letting the door fall shut after him. 

He fisted his hands in his hair and clenched his jaw, a mild surge of anger lighting in his throat. 

He wanted to do something irrational, wanted to yank the door open and scream into the hall or kick his bedframe, but didn’t think that he had it in himself; He had never been the best at acting on his anger, and always ended up wearing himself out from the inside until he was too tired to care. 

Slowly, he lowered his hands to his sides, and counted his breaths until they were even. 

_It’s nothing,_ he told himself, walking towards the door and grabbing his bag, unsure of what he was really doing. _Nothing at all._

__________

The moment Alec left the building, he felt better.

A cool breeze lifted flyaway strands of hair from his forehead as he walked across the parking lot. He kept going. 

So far, his day hadn’t been terrible.  
It had been… insane. And wonderful. And terrifying. And he couldn’t decide how that was in any way possible. 

All he knew was that he needed some distance from it. 

He climbed into his BMW, turned the key in the ignition, and peeled out of the parking lot, driving with no sense of direction except for the desire to get away. 

Eventually, campus faded away and merged into a small, secluded town. 

After turning a corner and finding himself on a main street, Alec spun the dial of the radio up and rolled the windows down, looking out at the streets and buildings as the wind tore at his hair and music danced in his ears. 

_Your sword's grown old and rusty, burnt beneath the rising sun. It's locked up like a trophy, forgetting all the things it's done,_

He drove like that for a while, drumming his fingers along the top of the steering wheel and picking his way down the streets at random. 

_I see it in your eyes, that now you're giving up the gun._

Being that it was only midday and having nothing to do, Alec pulled into a parking space across from a string of coffee shops and clothing stores and hopped out of the car. 

Shouldering his bag, he left the street and continued down the sidewalk, letting his eyes wander over various store signs as his mind drifted away on other things. 

Jace and Isabelle, his father and his classes.  
_Magnus._

In a way, being around strangers was enjoyable to Alec; he didn’t have to put up an act, didn’t have to communicate with anyone but himself.  
He could do nothing for hours and no one would ever know, as if this time didn’t exist at all. 

The town’s buildings were cramped together, leaving barely any room for a two-lane road between them and the separate space between every stranger.  
Alec looked around, feeling oddly calm, even as he was forced to weave around clusters of people and occasionally press himself against a wall to allow them to pass. 

The faint sound of a busker’s guitar and scratched voice echoed along the storefronts, shop doors swung open and closed with faint chimes, the blank windows of empty buildings reflected the sun’s glare. 

At the very end of the walkway, just before the sidewalk split off into a blurring four-way intersection, was a small and secluded building.

Alec stopped dead. _Building doesn’t seem like the right word for it,_ was all he could think, moving closer so that he could peer inside. 

The only lighting for the place was the partial rays of sunlight that filtered through the window; they caught fire on the pale and peeling wallpaper and made every flake of dust and rust shimmer.

The room was almost mismatched, with a narrow opening at the front door that opened slightly into a main room. It couldn’t have been larger than 1,000 square feet. 

Alec had never imagined anything so perfect. 

While fumbling for a pen, he scanned the sign taped to the door, once, twice, three times, as if the information there might disappear and become as unreal as this all felt. 

Feeling just the faintest glimmer of hope, he wrote it down, just below the shaking point of his pulse. 


	4. mc ch4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where they kiss :)

When Magnus walked into his Foreign Languages class on Wednesday, he hadn’t expected to be so lucky. 

He already had one class  
with blue eyes, and that was a miracle within itself; a second one was a harsh and wonderful slap in the face. He was awake in the way that extended beyond an attentive mind and open eyes. 

The moment he entered the room, and without his conscious effort, Magnus’s eyes had immediately settled on Alec, as if the quiet boy were a powerful magnet that he physically could not resist. 

Magnus now stood frozen in the doorway, completely oblivious of the annoyed students filing around him. 

The room wasn’t set up in singular desks but in connected rows, all lined up on raised levels, and Alec was sitting at the very back, where no one else had sat yet. 

His head was bent over a notebook on his desk, one hand fisted in his tangled and tied up hair, the other quickly moving over the paper. 

Flyaway strands of hair hid his eyes, but Magnus could still see his mouth, could still see the white flash of his teeth as he chewed on his lip ring. 

Alec hadn’t been wearing the ring yesterday, and Magnus felt like he was under attack; he had always been weak for piercings. And buns. And the combination of black hair and blue eyes and terribly shy smiles. 

In other words: Alec. And Alec’s didn’t come by often. 

_Stop,_ he told himself, and shook his head, hanging onto his backpack straps to reel himself in and gather his composure. 

Alec’s eyes flickered up to his. He quickly patted the empty seat beside him and smiled softly before staring back down at his notebook. 

Magnus grinned, discreetly checked his hair, and headed over to the other boy. 

“Hey,” Alec said, putting his book away and smiling his shy smile; with his hands bereft of something to do, he played with a braided bracelet on his wrist. "You’re in this class too.” 

“Hey, Alexander. I am. Are you excited for foreign languages?” Magnus asked, then mentally kicked himself for not saying something more interesting. 

Alec didn’t seem to notice. He shrugged. It was a precise movement, so stiff that Magnus was sure the air of unconcern was practiced. Alec wore a plain black t-shirt, and it’s dramatic contrast to his pale skin made him look wholly sharp and present. 

But his eyes, full of light but shadowed with bags, made him look only half there, like he might flicker off at any moment. “Not really.” Alec said. “I don’t know. I didn’t really pick it myself.” 

Magnus quirked an eyebrow, and Alec hastily added, “I mean, it was one of the classes that I just got put into. But I’m- I’m glad I’m in it.” He tried to hide his reddening cheeks by ducking his head. “What about you?” 

“I’m going to major in history, so it _is_ one of the classes I need to take. And I’ve always wanted to be able to speak other languages.” 

_And I’m even more excited for it now,_ he didn’t say. 

Alec seemed to perk up, and he tugged on a long strand of escaped hair as he spoke, like he was holding himself in. "I’m going to major in art.” 

Magnus smiled, and he looked away a little, at Alec’s hands. He didn’t want to give Alec too much attention and make him uncomfortable. 

"I’ve always wanted to.” Alec told him earnestly, his voice raw and reaching. “I mean, I’ve always wanted to do something with my art, but I need to get a degree so that I’ll have something to mark myself as a real artist. So that other people will see it as something serious. I just,” he looked away, as if remembering himself and relearning his shyness. “I’ll do anything to get there, even if this is just filler. Does that make sense?” 

"It does,” Magnus said, though he wasn’t sure he completely understood; all he knew was that he wanted Alec to keep talking with that look on his face and feeling in his voice. “What kind of art do you do?” 

Alec looked delighted to be asked. 

“Painting,” he said, “and writing, and pottery. It’s- I’ve always done it, all of them. But painting is my favorite.” 

Magnus nodded. This close, he could smell the sweetness of coffee on Alec’s breath. 

He looked to the front of the room; the professor was still sorting through papers on his desk. 

He looked back to Alec, and caught a flash of black ink along the pale inside of his wrist. 

"What’s written on your hand?” Magnus asked. He didn’t say, _is it some boy’s number?_

“Oh,” Alec said, withdrawing his hand. “Nothing.” 

The lecture began. 

Magnus did his best to pay attention. 

* * *

He caught Alec again as they were leaving class, grabbing him by the arm just as they were about to part in the middle of the hall. 

Alec jumped and looked down to where Magnus’s hand circled his upper arm, blushing furiously; Magnus tried to ignore how good it felt to touch him. 

He gathered his composure. “Do you want to come to a party tonight? At my apartment?” 

Alec’s head snapped up and he stared at Magnus for a long moment. He looked as if he were holding his breath. 

He finally said, “It’s Wednesday,” 

Magnus shrugged. “I’m not too organized in my planning, but,” he grinned, and Alec mirrored him, if only more subdued. “It always works out.” 

He let go of Alec’s arm. 

"I threw one the other day, but it wasn’t too great, and I feel like I need to redeem myself.” 

“That’s- thank you, but I’m not-” Alec’s neck disappeared into his shoulders and he averted Magnus’s eyes. “I’m not really that kind of person.” 

"What kind of person is that?” 

“A- a party person.” 

Magnus cocked his head. “Then what kind of person are you?” 

"The kind-” Alec gestured to his wrinkled shirt, as if it were the window to his soul. “That… stays in.” 

"The kind that stays in,” Magnus repeated, nodding. “Does that mean that you would be staying in tonight?” 

"Yes?” Alec said. His eyes were wary, and glinted with something like restrained hope. “Why?” 

“Just curious,” Magnus said. He was distinctly aware of Catarina, calling to him from somewhere in the hall; how she managed to always know where to find him, Magnus didn’t know. 

When they were younger and in foster care together, he had decided that she had superpowers, and still held this belief. 

Magnus waved at Alec and turned away. “See you,” 

* * *

Alec was an expert in turning himself off. 

Key in lock. Turn. Catch- turn again. Open the door. Walk in. Drop bag. Close door. Coffee. Kick off shoes. Easel and paints. Breathe. Let the hours pass. 

Auto-pilot had always been his favorite setting. 

Painting was easier than thinking, simpler than existing. 

Alec’s palette quickly became a mess of intertwining colors, the paint dripping over it’s chipped edges and onto his fingers and arm as he added more and more of it. He didn’t mind. 

Holding his brush between his lips, he dipped his fingertip between two puddles of paint; lifting them to the canvas, he drew the sun in amber and green.  
Next, he went to outline it with a soft, shimmering gold, the paint cold and sticky on his skin. 

A knock sounded at the door. 

Surprised, Alec put his brush down and clutched his palette to his chest. He walked over to the door, trying to remember if he had invited Jace over. 

When he opened the door to see Magnus standing there, his already twisted stomach unwound and curled the other way, the feeling like something between nausea and excitement. Stage fright. 

"Magnus,” Alec said, openly staring at the other boy. "Hi.” 

Completely unabashed, Magnus said, “I ditched my party. I wanted to see you instead.” 

“You ditched your own party?” 

Magnus nodded. 

Alec didn’t know what to say; was there an appropriate response to this? “Thank you?” 

His brain short-circuited. With Magnus so close, it was hard to completely focus on anything and simultaneously breathe. 

Magnus looked ridiculously out of place in the dim hallway. He had changed since class, and wore baggy black jeans with rolled cuffs and fraying seams, scuffed black boots, and a huge white t-shirt tucked into the front of his jeans that hung off of his shoulders but still somehow did flattering things for them; the only design on his shirt was small zagging lines exploding from the collar. 

Magnus smiled. Alec looked away. “What’re you painting?” He asked, indicating the thing Alec clutched to his chest. 

"Oh, it’s,” Alec pointed over his shoulder to his easel, where it stood facing the window. “You can- do you want to come in?” 

Magnus’s face lit up, his grin making his eyes practically fold in on themselves. _Oh, please_ Alec thought helplessly as Magnus nodded and walked forward. 

Somehow, Alec managed to bump into Magnus. He tried to move away and Magnus laughed and reached out an arm to steady him, and the palette fell from Alec’s fumbling hands. 

"Oh!” Alec exclaimed, jumping back as paint splashed across Magnus’s white shirt, soaking it and covering it in a multitude of mixing colors. 

The palette clattered to the floor, sounding over Alec’s distressed huff of breath. 

"Magnus,” he said, covering his mouth with his hands and staring at Magnus, horrified.“I didn’t mean to- I am so sorry, I can’t believe I just-” 

Magnus waved a dismissive hand, “It’s fine, Alexander. Nothing I can’t wash out.” 

Alec shook his head, devastated. “It’s _oil_ paint.” 

"Oh,” Magnus said, and shrugged again. With him so unconcerned, Alec let himself begin to anguish over how much paint he had just wasted. 

Magnus looked down at himself and grinned. He didn’t seem able to stop grinning; they just kept getting wider. “It could be a new look. Do you think I can pull it off?” 

Alec bit his tongue, trying to look anywhere but the sharp line of Magnus’s shoulders and chest through the wet, clinging fabric, anywhere but where it gripped the slight curve of his hips and waist. 

_I want to pull it off,_ he thought. 

Alec had seen Jace shirtless, had touched almost every part of his body when it was bare either on accident or on purpose. When he was around Jace, he didn’t feel jittery at even the suggestion of a body part. 

Around Jace, these were small things, so unimportant that they hardly added to Alec’s frustrating infatuation.  
With Magnus, they only made everything harder. And infinitely more confusing. 

"I think that you- I’ll get you something to wear.” Alec said, and quickly picked up and put his messy palette beside the coffee machine before walking over to his closet. 

He rifled through his clothes, all t-shirts, hoodies, and sweaters in varying shades of black and gray and other colors faded beyond recognition. Knowing that none of them would come close to glimpsing Magnus’s unattainable level of eccentricity, he grabbed a light sweater at random and turned to see Magnus standing beside his painting and making it look like nothing, nothing at all. 

"Here,” Alec said, holding the sweater out to Magnus. “I hope it fits.” 

Magnus accepted the sweater, his fingers brushing Alec’s as he took it. 

Turning away, Alec tried to scrape the dried paint from his arms as Magnus changed. 

Multi-colored flakes of paint drifted to Alec’s feet. Alec listened to the rustling of Magnus’s clothes. 

"You actually ditched your own party?” He asked, disbelieving. “To see me?” 

“Yeah, I did,” Magnus said, then: “Done.” 

Alec turned around, catching a flash of the dark skin of Magnus’s hips as he finished settling the sweater on himself. Magnus wrapped his arms around himself, the long sleeves spilling over his hands. 

His ruined shirt lay at his feet. He kicked at it. “Thanks,” Magnus said, at the same moment that Alec blurted, “Do you want to go out on a date?” 

Magnus’s head snapped up, and his ever-growing smile split his face in half. The weak sunlight that filtered in through the window lit the blue paint on his eyelashes to a blinding shimmer. Looking at him was like looking into the sun. Alec didn’t look away. 

"With me.” Alec added. “A date with me.” 

Magnus’s grin was blinding, and this time Alec couldn’t look away. 

* * *

Alec turned the key in the ignition, and sighed as the BMW quietly sprung to obedient life. He was silent as he backed up and pulled out of the parking lot, his throat drying further every time he glanced at Magnus. 

Was this really happening? Things like this didn’t happen to him. 

Magnus turned sideways in the passenger seat; Alec’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. 

People like Magnus didn’t happen to him. 

"What kind of music do you listen to?” Magnus asked, reaching over the console to pick up a few CD’s wedged between it and Alec’s seat. 

"Too many bands to remember. My sister made all of those CD’s of them for me, though. One for every test she refuses to study for.” 

Magnus ran his fingers over the CD cases, reading the song titles there in Isabelle’s scrawl. 

"Vampire Weekend,” he said, and Alec looked at him anxiously, watching for his reaction. Magnus set a case on his lap and looked at the others. “The 1975, Fob, The Killers,” He flipped through the rest, smiling in a way that made Alec’s chest tighten further. 

“These are all great,” Magnus said, carefully putting the CD’s back in their place; his hand brushed the side of Alec’s thigh as he did so, and Alec was almost sure it hadn’t been an accident; or, at least he hoped that it hadn’t. 

Magnus kept one CD, though, and after a questioning look to Alec, he slid it into the player. 

"Most hot guys have the worst taste in music,” He said, and before Alec could stutter a reply, a soft hum started in the speakers. 

The loud instrumental in the beginning of the song vibrated in the stereo as Magnus turned the volume up, and Alec tapped his fingers on the wheel along to it’s beat. 

Then, a soft voice, 

_Sweet Jesus I swear that I love you, no matter what the chariot says. I’m biased and by this I’ll judge you on weakness wrapped up in my own innocence._

They had reached the small town adjoining the campus, and, as Alec turned, he stole a glance at Magnus. 

Magnus’s eyes had fallen shut, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards as he shaped the words to the song.  
Streetlights played over his shifting throat, the dappling colors following the graceful movement of it. 

Alec let out a shaky breath. 

"So,” He said, pulling into the first empty space he found. He hadn’t any idea what they were supposed to do; he hadn’t thought past driving into town. “Coffee?” 

“Coffee sounds great,” Magnus said, and they met on the sidewalk. 

_I’ve been trying so hard to be good again._

"There’s actually a nice café around the corner,” Alec said, matching his stride to Magnus’s. “I haven’t tried it yet, but we could. I mean, unless you know of another place-” 

"No,” Magnus said, and his palm pressed to Alec’s, fingers lacing through Alec’s stiff ones. “That’s okay.” He ran a thumb along Alec’s knuckles. “Is this?” 

"Y-yeah. It is.” Alec returned the pressure, his palm tingling with a light pleasure as they crossed the street together. The sleeves of Magnus’s borrowed sweater tickled his wrist, and his palm was soft and new against Alec’s. 

It didn’t escape Alec’s noticing that he could feel Magnus’s tripping pulse on his wrist. 

A small bell sounded as Magnus pushed the cafés door open, and Alec released his hand as the lamplight fell over them. 

The shop was quiet, with only a few people there excluding the staff behind the counter. 

No one here knew him, or meant anything to him, but it still made Alec nervous at the thought of anyone seeing him holding hands with a boy. 

_A boy._

It didn’t seem right to describe Magnus that way, but he wasn’t a guy, he wasn’t a man. He was a warm, vital, _boy._

Alec leaned onto the counter and smiled tensely. 

A girl with tired eyes and knotted up hair came through a swinging door from the back. Magnus, standing beside Alec, made quick and easy conversation as they both ordered their drinks. Alec was grateful that he didn’t have to say more than _coffee please, black, yeah, thanks._

Holding his coffee to his chest, Alec followed Magnus to a curved booth near a window that overlooked the reflecting lights of traffic and stars. 

Though there was room enough for the both of them to stretch their legs out and not touch, Magnus sat just beside Alec, and their knees bumped. 

Alec bent over his coffee. 

"This is my first date,” he said. 

"This is my first date in a coffee shop.” Magnus answered. 

"I just want to make sure that you know, because I’m not good at things like this. So if this sucks for you-” 

“Alec,” Magnus interrupted. “I like you. We just got here, and I’m already having a great time. You don’t suck at this.” 

“Oh,” Alec said, incredibly pleased. He felt his cheeks begin to redden. “I just- I hope that I won’t.” 

Magnus set his elbows on the table. “So you’ve never gone out with a boy? Or a girl?” He asked. 

Alec shook his head. “No, not with a boy. And definitely not with a girl.” 

“Why?” Magnus asked. The light dangling above them reflected in his amber eyes. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but you’re really attractive, Alec. I’ve already seen a few other people looking at you today.” 

Alec spun his coffee cup in his hands. He couldn’t make himself look at Magnus. “You’re joking.” He said. 

He knew that people didn’t look at him. He would have noticed. 

“I’m not. I wouldn’t joke about this.” Magnus knocked his knee to Alec’s. 

“I’m not-” 

“Hey, don’t fight with me on this. Do you own a mirror?” 

Alec laughed shakily. His palms were sweating; he had never talked to anyone like this. He had never thought about anyone besides Jace looking at him. 

He had never liked it so much when anyone besides Jace looked at him. 

“I don’t know.” He said. “I’ve just always hidden everything. I’m not out to anyone besides my sister, so I guess I just didn’t let myself think about it.” 

“Your parents-?” 

“I think my mom would be okay with it, after a while. I don’t want to think about how my dad would react. What about yours?” 

Magnus hesitated. Something happened in his eyes. “I’m not very close with them, so it doesn’t matter.” 

“Oh,” Alec said, “sorry.” 

Magnus pressed his thigh to Alec’s again. It set off thousands of trigger-happy nerve endings. 

“It’s okay.” Magnus said. “Really. Hey, have you been to the art museum? The one here in town.” 

Alec’s heart skipped a beat. “I didn’t know there was one.” 

“It’s really small, it might not even count as a museum. I think it’s all local pieces. But I was looking it up earlier today, and I was thinking that we could go. It’s open for a while longer.” 

Alec clamped a hand over his smiling mouth and nodded repeatedly. 

_He thought about me. He listened to what I said. He found an art museum_ for _me._

Magnus rubbed the back of his neck. “Only if you want to. I’d understand if-” 

“No, Magnus, I mean-” Alec stood up. He held his hand out. “I want to go.” 

Magnus looked up at him. “Really?” 

Alec grabbed his hand and pulled him up. “ _Really._ ” 

* * *

To call the place a museum was being charitable. 

The cost to get in was $2 per person; Magnus had paid and left Alec blushing and stuttering; “It’s four dollars, Alec. That’s less than my eyeliner. Besides, you’re my _date._ ”  
Alec had pocketed his ticket stub. 

_I’ll pin this to my wall,_ he’d thought. 

And Magnus had smiled and watched him. He was always watching. 

The place was small and almost run-down looking, composed of one thin, long hall with white walls absolutely covered in art; paintings and sketches and every 2-D form of art Alec knew of hung on the wall, and sculptures were presented on plain black tables. 

Everything about the place was quiet and small, making room for the arts demanding presence. 

Alec instantly fell in love with it. 

Attached to every piece was a tag listing the works name, the artist, and the price. 

He and Magnus walked up the hall, then down it again, looking at all of the pieces and talking about them. 

Magnus stopped in front of one small painting and leaned in close to it, the black of his eyes reflecting its swirling colors.  
“Doesn’t this look like Starry Night?” He asked Alec, “by Van Gogh?” He looked profoundly excited to say something besides, “It’s pretty,” or, “Alec, look, the blue is the same as your eyes.” 

Alec smiled and moved to stand beside Magnus to check the tag. 

“‘Stars Goghing’,” he read, then examined the painting closer. The real _Starry Night_ was one of the first paintings Alec had ever fallen in love with, due to its popularity, and he had it’s every detail committed to memory. 

In the original painting there was a village at the bottom, with mountains over it, and then the stars. A cypress tree reached past the skyline and cut through their swirling pattern. 

In this painting only the stars resembled Van Gogh’s work. At the bottom there was only blackness, and the swirling tendrils of the stars and the wind was being sucked down into it. Alec pointed at it, careful not to touch the surface. “It’s sort of like an adaptation to the real starry night, but they changed it enough for it to be an original. It’s a really famous painting, so impressions of it are really common. I’ve painted a few.” 

Alec felt in complete control; he could easily talk about art. 

“Van Gogh painted it while in the asylum; it’s the view from his rooms window. He actually sketched a whole series of the view, but 'Starry Night’ is the only nocturne one. And the best known.” 

Magnus looked thoughtful. He reached out to almost touch the paintings surface, and his fingers brushed the edges of Alec’s knuckles. 

Magnus drew his hand away, taking some of Alec’s control with it. 

_That didn’t last long,_ he thought. 

“You’re really smart about this,” he said. “I didn’t know any of that.” 

Alec smiled and he looked away. “Just some obsessive reading.” He said. 

Magnus asked, “Have you always wanted to be an art major?” 

Alec shook his head. He turned so that he wouldn’t have to look at Magnus when he spoke and they walked down the hall again, eyes on the paintings and sculptures. 

"No.” Alec said. “I mean- I’ve always wanted to do art. And I’ve always wanted to have my own shop in some big city, but my parents never approved of it as a career. They see it as a sideshow. My going to school is just to keep them-” Alec searched for an appropriate word and came up empty. 

_Contempt?_

_Tolerant?_

_Ignorant?_

“They sent me here so that I can get a degree. Then I’ll have documented physical proof of my art meaning something to someone other than me.” 

Alec took a deep breath and looked away from Magnus, suddenly self conscious. 

Magnus’s voice was almost a whisper. “From what I’ve seen, just from that painting that you were working on today, you’re an amazing artist, Alec. Nothing in this room compares to what you made.” 

_Except you,_ Alec thought. 

"I wish it was enough for them,” Alec said, and looked back to Magnus. “But it isn’t, and I’m okay with that. Sort of. And… thank you.” 

Magnus paused as a painting depicting a child playing with an odd toy caught his eye. 

Alec didn’t recognize it. “Have you seen that before?” He asked, wondering if possibly it was a copy work. 

“No,” Magnus said, waving a dismissive hand and walking on again. “Just the toy. It’s a _stromvos,_ a spinning top. They’ve been really popular with Greek children since the ancient times. And now they’re modern and everywhere.” 

Alec found the fact that Magnus knew something so simple and seemingly unimportant amusing and adorable. He didn’t just know the major parts of history; he knew all of them. He truly loved it. 

“Did you always want to be a history major?” He asked. 

Something crossed Magnus’s face, but was gone so quickly that Alec was almost sure he had imagined it. 

Magnus nodded. “It was always my focus when I was little. I actually- I grew up in foster care, but I was never adopted. So I just spent all of my time working towards… this.” 

"I’m sorry about that,” Alec said. He couldn’t relate, and was lost for words. 

Magnus stopped in front of another painting and stared at it for a moment. Alec looked at the back of his neck. He liked that soft hairs curled in wisps there. He liked that there was a crowding of freckles just above the neckline of Magnus’s borrowed sweater. 

He liked that he had the opportunity to really look at someone and not feel ashamed for it. 

“Don’t be,” Magnus said, breezy and nonchalant. “I met my best friends in foster care, I wouldn’t change a thing.” 

Alec nodded, still unsure what to say even if Magnus _did_ say that it was okay. 

They continued walking. 

“You know, since they show local art for free,” Magnus said, “you could show them some of yours, get your name out there.” 

Alec blinked at the floor. His converse looked dirty and neglected against its white tiles. Magnus’s black boots looked sleek and elegant in comparison. They made smart _clack_ s on the tile with every step. 

“I hadn’t even thought of that.” Alec said, embarrassed. 

“Your eyes went a little hazy the second we got here.” Magnus gestured at the art all around them. “And you’re still all lit up, just from being around the art. It’s quite understandable.” 

_It’s not because of the art,_ Alec wanted to say. 

“I’m happy we came here. You have great ideas.” 

They had finished walking up and down the hall again, and Alec stopped in front of the door. He turned to Magnus; the small window behind Magnus shot moonlight into the room, and it outlined the other boys shoulders and neck like a blanket. 

“But now I have one.” Alec said. 

Magnus’s lips lifted at the corners, just barely. “Do you?” He asked. 

Alec nodded slowly. “I think that we should go back to my dorm room.” He said, and quickly added, “But I’ve never done that with anyone before, and I don’t know if it’s a good idea.” 

Magnus’s lips completely split to accommodate his grin. “That idea is _way_ better than any of mine.” 

Alec laughed. 

“I’m worried it isn’t.” 

Magnus seemed to think on this for almost a whole second. 

“You’re honest.” He observed. “How about you decide when we get there?” 

* * *

“I don’t know you,” Alec said. He wasn’t sure if he was reminding Magnus, or himself. He opened the door to his dorm room and they both walked in. “At least not that well.” 

“I know that I like you, and that I want to know you better.” Magnus said. His hand circled Alec’s wrist, just barely. Alec leaned into the touch.  
“Really badly. God, Alexander,” 

Alec didn’t want to wrap himself up in something he wasn’t ready for, something he was completely inexperienced in. 

But this, the way Magnus was looking at him, the way he said his name and touched his wrist, was a whole new form of art Alec had never known. 

Magnus was irresistible. Painted with a wanting and knowing hand. 

"Come here,” Magnus said, closing his fingers around Alec’s wrist tighter and bringing their hands up to his heart. 

Alec stepped closer, and Magnus hung his head, looking at Alec through blue painted eyelashes. 

It was the closest they had been to each other so far, and it felt so intimate that Alec’s breath seized in his throat. 

“Alexander,” Magnus whispered, and Alec’s knees went weak at the way he said his name, breathing it like it tasted sweet in his mouth. “I haven’t known you for long, but I’ve never known anyone as- as extraordinary as you. You’re so interesting, Alec. I just want to know more and more about you. I know that sounds insane. I know. But the way I’ve felt since I first met you, just a few days ago- and now that I’ve actually spent time with you, it’s- I can’t explain it.” 

Alec startled himself by laughing. 

“How do you imagine I feel?” He asked, and leaned so close to Magnus that it was humanely impossible to not kiss him. 

His lips brushed across Magnus’s like live wires, and Magnus straightened up, his eyes going wide in shock; Alec tilted his head carefully, letting his eyes fall shut and focusing on the increasing speed of Magnus’s heartbeat, wild in his mouth. 

Magnus was trembling all over. He pulled back for a moment, groaning as if in pain. “Alec, are you sure that you-” 

Alec kissed him again, humming against Magnus’s hesitant lips, and he felt something in Magnus break. 

Magnus let out an unsteady breath and pressed Alec into the wall. Alec gave a small gasp, momentarily freezing as Magnus slid one hand up to cup the back of his neck and draw him to the curve of his body. He felt Magnus’s long fingers steal up into his hair and melted into him with a breathy sigh. 

Magnus’s lips were soft, so much softer than Alec could have ever imagined, and he moved them against Alec’s like he was paying special attention to every nerve ending Alec had and was waking them all at once, turning his lips into something new and alive and beautiful. 

Alec kissed him back, messily and wetly and unsteadily, but he had never felt anything so wonderful. 

He pressed his hand hard to Magnus’s chest, feeling the wonderful symphony of Magnus’s warm skin and pounding heart and shaky draws of breath. He gripped Magnus’s hip with his other, and Magnus gave a low growl and yanked on his hair. 

Magnus grazed his tongue along Alec’s bottom lip and Alec shivered, opening his mouth a little more and pressing closer, unsure of what to do or how to do it but trusting Magnus and trusting this new, starving thing inside him. 

Magnus slid his tongue in, just barely, before pulling away slightly, stealing a breath, and then kissing Alec harder, coming like wild, desperate tides and then receding softly and carefully, teasingly and torturously. 

He was the moon and Alec a tsunami; taken over by chaos. Crashing and crashing. A great destruction. 

Alec moaned and slid both hands under Magnus’s shirt; Magnus gasped against his mouth, making Alec jump. 

It seemed so strange that he could make someone feel something so strongly with such a light touch. 

It made him feel strangely confident and _powerful_

"Magnus,” 

Breathing seemed too complicated now, unnecessary; every breath was a missed opportunity to murmur his name. 

” _Magnus,_ “ Alec pulled the other boy harder against him, desperate to feel and know every line of his body. 

He ran his hands over the swell of Magnus’s chest, down the line of his heaving ribs, and they both shuddered, as if intricately connected. 

Magnus finally pulled away with a gasp, their lips millimeters apart, and Alec traced the groove of his spine, watching the way Magnus’s eyes seemed to darken more and more with every inch his hands descended. 

"You need to go,” Alec said softly; it wasn’t a demand, but a reluctant question. They both had classes tomorrow, and both knew that Magnus staying may not be the best of the ideas they had tonight, no matter how tempting. 

"I probably should,” Magnus said, but he didn’t move. Alec traced the skin just above the waistline of his jeans, thrilled that he could touch him like this. 

"I don’t want you to.” Alec said, withdrawing his hands. He lifted one to his throat to feel his own hammering pulse. 

“Me neither,” Magnus whispered. “I just want to do this,” he bent and pressed his lips to Alec’s neck, “all night long.” 

Alec let his head fall back again, his hands automatically moving up to grab Magnus’s arms. 

"But,” Magnus said, his words hot on Alec’s throat as he bit and sucked on it, “I can’t.” 

Alec gulped. 

He stretched his neck to the side as Magnus nipped along the outside cord of it. “Tomorrow,” he said, “or the next day. Just- again.” 

Magnus’s lips left Alec’s neck to hover at his ear. “And again,” he murmured. He stepped backwards into the still open doorway; Alec hadn’t realized that they hadn’t closed it, and the knowledge that anyone could have walked by and seen them made his cheeks flush further. 

"I-” Magnus started. 

“I’ve never been kissed before,” Alec interrupted; he felt like it was important to say. 

Magnus smiled, still leaning into the open doorway. “I’ve never been kissed like _that._ ” 


	5. mc ch5

my lovely beta reader - [@glitterycateyes](http://tmblr.co/muspDYgtToxC6JgcTPpaz6g)

* * *

Alec thought of Magnus before he was fully awake. 

He rubbed a hand over his eyes and slapped the other over his blaring alarm clock; even its sound couldn’t bother him. 

Not after last night. 

His first time kissing a boy, and his entire world was upside down. 

Well, not just kissing. Making-out, feeling up, holding, _consuming._

It was all he could think about. 

He ran a hand through his hair. It had escaped from its bun sometime yesterday, and his fingers caught in the tangles Magnus had made. 

He really couldn’t blame Magnus for the knots; he couldn’t himself remember the last time he’d brushed his hair. But he liked to think that they were a result of Magnus’s fingers instead of his own self neglect. 

He rolled sideways in bed and trailed his hand down his neck. His fingers ran over the suggestions of indentations there, the memories of Magnus’s teeth. 

Alec smiled into his pillow. 

The alarm hadn’t quieted. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he looked over to where it sat. He belatedly realized that it was his phone ringing. 

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, grabbed his phone, and held it to his ear. 

“Hey,” Isabelle’s voice, too bright. Alec groaned. 

“Hey, Iz. Morning.” 

“Not really. Did you just wake up?” She asked. “It’s like, twelve.” 

“Yeah. I was up late partying.” 

“Really?” Isabelle sounded impressed. 

“God,” Alec said. “No.” 

“Of course.” Isabelle audibly deflated. “I was proud of you, for a moment.” She paused. Alec heard the ruffle of a coat or blanket. “Did you and Jace stay in, then?” 

“Ah, no,” Alec said. “He probably partied. I don’t know, I wasn’t with him.” 

“Well, at least he’s having fun. You should, too. Anyways, I’m on the way to campus. You two bailed on me Wednesday, so let’s go get some breakfast. And I don’t care if he’s hungover. I miss my brothers.” 

Alec’s smile hurt his cheeks. He missed Isabelle more with every word she said. “I don’t have class until… until one, I think. I’ll get Jace and meet you at this café that I went to last night with- it’s nice. It’s in town. I’ll text you the address.” 

“Okay,” Isabelle said. “I’ll bring your old sketchbook, if you want. The one with the torn out spine.” 

“Oh yeah, do. I accidentally left it at home.” It was no accident. 

“Heading out. See you in a bit.” 

“Yeah, love you,” Alec said. He hung up, tucked his phone into the pocket of his wrinkled jeans, and wiped a hand over his eyes. 

_Last night…_

He got up and grabbed his keys. 

He wanted to tell Isabelle about everything. About Magnus. But he wasn’t sure if last night was something he could talk to anyone about, let alone his little sister.  
He wasn’t sure if _Magnus_ was something he could talk about. 

Jace would be there, so Alec wouldn’t be able to say a word around him.  
He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text to Jace. _iz wants to have breakfast. meet me in the parking lot in five_

Tossing a seemingly clean jacket over his shoulder, he toed his sneakers on and left.  
__________ 

Jace was leaning against the BMW when Alec got there. He stopped in his tracks for a moment, surprised; he had half expected to have to hunt Jace down. 

There had never been this, with Jace. The unsureness, the pausing. Growing up, they had never spent longer than a day apart; adults who witnessed their interactions often joked about them being glued together, about their keen inseparability. Everyone who saw them together would comment on the special, rare bond they shared. 

Not even a week into college, and they were already growing apart. Already, the binding between them was tearing. 

Possibly Alec was just imagining it. 

Jace was his best friend, Alec reminded himself. _His other half._ He smiled. “Hey.” He said, and pulled Jace into a hug. 

Jace’s arms crossed over his back for a moment before patting and letting go. As Alec he stepped away, it didn’t escape his notice that his pulse was mostly calm. 

“Hey. Where’re we going? I haven’t been to town yet.” 

“It’s a coffee place. Called Cuppies, I think. It’s just a few minutes from here.” 

Jace ran a hand through his golden hair. “As long as it has food, I’m good. And we haven’t seen each other since the first day, so you’ll have to tell me everything.” 

_Not everything,_ Alec thought, then wondered, _And is that my fault?_

“You, too.” Alec said. “I’m pretty sure we’ll get there and Iz’ll have a list of questions.” 

Jace laughed, turned, and pulled on the door handle repeatedly until Alec unlocked the car. He climbed in and slammed the door shut. Alec felt his boyish grin burning into his back as he made his way to the drivers side. 

Casual. Just like always. 

“How’s your roommate?” Alec asked, if only a little bitterly. He turned the keys in the ignition. The car gently shook beneath him as it sprang to life. He grabbed Jace’s headrest as he backed up. 

“Jordan? He’s great. A friend of his threw this huge party last night. You should’ve come, I texted you.” 

“You did?” Alec asked. He tried to remember using his phone at all yesterday. He wouldn’t have gone to the party anyways, but it was the thought that counted, he supposed. “Sorry. I guess I didn’t see it. I was just trying to catch up with things, and I was busy with-” 

Jace was going through the CD’s, and Alec faltered. 

He remembered Magnus flipping through them, remembered him whispering lyrics with his eyes closed and his lips curved up in the suggestion of a smile. 

“With classes.” Alec finished. 

Jace didn’t look up. He just kept reading through every track list. 

“Me too. Jordan has this pack of friends that are always in our room, ‘cause he has this great game system, so even when we’re not partying it’s hard to get stuff done.” 

“I mean,” Alec said, “you could not go to the parties.” 

“Partying is the whole point of college.” 

Alec made a pained noise. “Don’t say that in front of Isabelle. You’re a bad influence.” 

“Hey,” Jace said. He propped his feet up on the dash and grinned. “She turned out all right.” 

* * *

Indeed, Isabelle had turned out all right, despite Jace. _More_ than all right. She was as fierce and fearless as she was beautiful. She was a girl almighty, unfailingly unafraid and strong. Anyone would drop to their knees at her presence, and she wouldn’t spare them a glance as she strode by. 

Isabelle didn’t need anyone to be proud of her, and she didn’t need anyone to protect her, but Alec couldn’t help himself. 

He saw Isabelle through the window of the shop before he and Jace had even crossed the street; his sister always flashed like a strobe-light. 

Almost, he thought, like Magnus. The both of them were so bright it made your eyes ache. Looking at them was like looking into the sun. 

Alec really had missed her. 

He followed Jace into the café. The table that he and Magnus had sat at last night wasn’t occupied, but it still seemed to take up more space than any other one. He kept turning his head to it. They headed over to Isabelle; Alec glanced back at the table like it would tell his secret. 

Isabelle had already ordered coffees and muffins for them all, and she was absorbed with the task of pouring numerous packets of sugar into her mug. 

“Iz,” Alec and Jace said. 

Isabelle looked up, already smiling. Her pale face was clean of makeup and flushed with the cold. Her nose was bright red with it like Alec’s. 

She stood up and pulled both boys to her, crushing them all against each other. Alec closed his eyes for a moment and let himself indulge in the familiar feeling; Isabelle’s face just under his collarbone, her hand fisted in his jacket, her leaning on Jace and Jace leaning on Alec, their arms tangled and comfortably uncomfortable. It made him strangely homesick. 

“Hey guys,” Isabelle said, voice muffled in Alec’s jacket. He had been careful to zip it up high enough so that it covered the faint marks on his neck. 

Alec pet her hair and rested his chin on her head for a moment before releasing her and sitting down. Jace slid into the booth beside him. Their knees bumped. 

Isabelle pushed two coffees towards them, and then a plate with three muffins; two whole and one that looked picked at and neglected.  
“Here. Both black.” Isabelle said. At a disgusted noise from Jace, she added, “You can order another.” She looked at Jace, mouth scornful but eyes shining. “You’re always so picky about your coffee.” 

“I don’t like bitter drinks.” Jace said. “It’s not being ‘picky.’ It’s loving myself.” 

“Whatever. Drink it anyways, you both look cold.” 

Alec took his coffee and sipped it, grateful for the warmth. 

Jace muttered something distasteful and tore some sugar packets open. Alec watched him with detached interest. 

Isabelle tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned over the table. “So, what’s it like?” She looked to Jace. “Are there big parties?” 

“ _Yes,”_ Jace said, his tawny eyes brightening immeasurably. “They’re-” 

Alec frowned at them both. “No. We’re not talking about that. Because I haven’t been going to parties,” he looked at Isabelle. “And you’re not going to, either, when you’re in college, so forget about it.” He took another gulp of coffee and nudged Jace meaningfully under the table. 

“Classes are- good?” Jace said. “And my roommate is fucking insane. We-” 

“ _Language._ ” Alec interrupted. He took a muffin and bit into it. “College is great, Iz. We’re both _learning_ and being _responsible._ My classes are great so far. And I have sculpture later today.” 

Jace rolled his eyes and muttered something low enough that only Isabelle heard, and she laughed into her coffee. 

Alec toyed with his own between his hands. 

He hadn’t told Isabelle about not wanting to go to college. When the acceptance letter had come in, when his father had taken the choice away, he had told Isabelle that he changed his mind and wanted to go, that he didn’t want to focus solely on art, that after so many years of it being his main focus he wanted to try other things. 

It wouldn’t be any help for her to know, and he didn’t want her angry or worrying about something that couldn’t be changed. 

Besides, certain aspects of college had Alec close to changing his mind. 

“What else?” Isabelle asked. Her laughter had subsided, but her eyes still gleamed with it. She pushed a muffin to Jace, who was looking down at his phone. 

“Actually,” Jace said, and pushed at Alec to let him out of the booth. “I have class in a few minutes, I didn’t know how long we’d be here for. Jordan’s outside to pick me up. So-” 

There was an awkward scramble as Alec and Jace got up, and as Isabelle jumped up to hug Jace goodbye. 

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” She said, pulling Jace tight to her. “You just got here.”  
Jace enveloped her in a hug, his arms strong around her shoulders, hands administering awkward boy pats to the back of her head. 

“I’ll see you later,” Jace said. “Just hang out with Alec for a bit. He can lecture you on being an overcautious pain in the ass.” 

“Shut up,” Alec muttered. “Go learn something.” 

“And- here.” Isabelle handed him his coffee and muffin. 

“Thanks. Bye, Iz. Tell Maryse and Robert hi for me. And Alec, come by tonight?” 

“I might be doing- maybe. I’ll text you.” 

A car horn honked outside. Jace shoved the entire muffin into his mouth and made for the door, waving over his shoulder and speaking through the muffin. 

“Thanks for the terrible coffee!” 

“Love you too!” Isabelle called. She turned to Alec. “You good to stay for a while? I’m off school today, for teacher planning or something.” 

“Yeah,” Alec said. They both sat down again. 

Alec stared down at his lap. He was _dying_ to talk about Magnus. To anyone. Even to Isabelle.  
_Especially_ to Isabelle. Growing up, she was the only one who talked about boys with him. She was the one that, when Alec was hiding who he was and what he felt, loved him just the same, loved him and supported him like they both knew their parents wouldn’t. 

_I could tell her,_ Alec thought, feeling himself flush, _I could really tell her._

“Actually, Iz,” 

Everything was so hot. When did it get so hot? Alec felt like he was suffocating. 

He pulled at the restrictive collar of his jacket before unzipping it and dropping it onto the booth beside him; cool air hit his heated neck and chest, and he instantly felt better. 

“Alec? Is that-” 

“I need to tell you something.” Alec said. He pulled his hair back until it fell from his fingers and to his shoulders, then tied it up and played with a few fallen strands; his hands seemed incapable of keeping still. 

Isabelle pointed at Alec’s neck. “Does what you have to tell me have something to do with those?” 

“I- what?” Alec said, hands flying up to his neck. _Oh._ “I had my jacket on to cover those.” 

“And now your jacket is off,” Isabelle reminded him. 

Alec clamped both hands over his neck and rested his elbows on the table. He felt hot all over again. “I need to tell you something.” 

Isabelle raised her eyebrows. “Do you?” 

Her eyes were practically dancing. Alec couldn’t help but smile. 

“Iz, yeah, there’s a- I met someone. A boy.” 

Alec looked up, then shook his head and bit his lip, eyes dropping to the table. 

“ _Alec,_ ” Isabelle said, and she kicked him under the table. 

Alec jerked his head up. “ _Hey-_ ” 

“You could have started with that!” Isabelle said. “I don’t actually care about your classes. No offense.” 

“Well, Jace was here. I couldn’t.” Alec said. His cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling. Again. “Magnus.” He said. “His names Magnus. He’s… he’s really different.” He met Isabelle’s eyes. “I really like him, Iz.” 

“Screw classes,” Isabelle said. “Tell me about _him._ ” 

Alec sipped his coffee; it was almost cool and nearly empty, but it was something to do besides grin. 

“He’s really nice. And he’s pretty. And he wears makeup, but I don’t think it changes him. I mean, I haven’t seen him without it, but- I don’t think he looks better with it on, or vice versa. Like, it makes him look different, but it’s still him.” He knew that he was blabbering meaninglessly. He couldn’t help it. “And he’s Asian, I think. His eyes are curved and thin, and they’re this mix of gold and green. And he’s so _tall,_ Iz, taller than me. That never happens.” 

Alec spun the coffee cup in his hands. “He dresses really nice, and I don’t really care about that but I like it about him. I think that you would, too.” 

“He’s _pretty._ ” Isabelle said. Her nose scrunched up to accommodate her smile.  
“But is he smart? And is he a good person?” Her brown eyes went hard. “Tell me you’re not going head over heels for some fuckboy.” 

“ _Language-_ ” 

“What’s he majoring in?” She asked. 

“History,” Alec said immediately, and failed to elaborate when he realized that he didn’t know anything else. He had been too busy being in awe of Magnus to ask. “I- I didn’t ask what he wants to do with it. I should have. But he’s smart. He’s _really_ smart, Iz, I promise. I was just…” 

“Distracted?” Isabelle offered. 

Alec felt himself flush, not for the first time in the past few days, not for the hundredth. “A little,” he admitted, and looked up. 

“So you have kissed him,” She said, being polite enough that she didn’t gesture to Alec’s neck but being sisterly enough that she stared at it. 

Alec smiled dumbly at her, and he nodded. “Yeah, I have. I did.” 

A small part of him regretted telling her; it told him not to get too excited for something so new. 

Alec told that part of him to shut up. 

“When?” Isabelle asked. She was practically glowing with happiness, for _Alec._

“Last night.” Alec told her. He looked down at his hands again. “He came to my dorm room, and I asked him out. And he said _yes._ And-” 

“Of course he said yes,” Isabelle said. 

“And we came here. He liked your music, you know, the CD’s you made for me. He knew that one song by Man-” 

“Alec. The date.” 

“Right,” Alec said. He drummed his fingers nervously on the table. “We came here and talked for a while. And then he brought me to the art museum. It was really small but I really liked it.” 

Alec laughed a little. 

“He listened to me, Iz, he thought about me. No ones ever been like that.” 

Alec watched his hands play on the table. 

“And that was all we did, really. He sang on the way back, and when he kissed me,” Alec chewed on his upper lip. “Or when I kissed him, I guess, It felt right.” 

He looked back up to his sister. 

Isabelle had her head propped up in both hands and she looked incredibly thoughtful.  
She watched Alec for a moment, and her voice was very soft when she spoke. “You’ve never talked about anyone like that.” 

Alec chewed on his lip. “There’s never been anyone to talk about.” 

“Yes, there has. Ever since we were little.” 

Alec felt ashamed, but knew not to be. Isabelle would never judge him for Jace. She understood. 

“This isn’t like Jace. It doesn’t feel like him. At all.” 

“It feels like…?” 

Alec set his coffee cup down, put his head in his hands and peeked at Isabelle through his splayed fingers. He laughed ridiculously, as if in defeat. 

“It feels like magic.” 

* * *

After leaving Isabelle with the promise to call and go home soon, Alec made his sculpture class just in time. 

The art building was small and shabby, hidden at the edge of campus like it might fall off and disappear. It consisted of only four rooms, one of which was used for storage. 

Alec quickly found his classroom. On the thin wall space above the door the words _Sculpture, studio 1_ were written plainly. 

When he walked in, he breathed a sigh of relief. 

The room was designed with the idea of careless comfort, honed to present itself with an old, used aesthetic. 

Scratched and painted-over wooden tables stood in rows, with two rickety stools at each one.  
Counters with adjoining cupboards stuck to the walls, and they held the proof of years and years of work; mixed and multicolored stains across their surfaces, messily stacked papers and palettes, containers of clay and tubs of paint. Forgotten pencils and brushes fetched up against the crevice where the counter met the wall. 

The room looked as if it was only held up by the sparse people who cared enough for the art program to vouch for its continuation; it breathed ancient love and devotion. For the first time since leaving for college, Alec felt at home. 

He now took the only empty seat left, at a table taken by a surprisingly young-looking boy who was occupied with flattening a thick slab of clay. He was clearly not using any technique at all and was seemingly hoping for the clay to pick up on his frustration and shape itself. 

The stool wobbled beneath Alec. He set his bag at his feet and looked around for a professor. The desk at the front of the room was bare. 

“The instructor is not here.” The boy opposite him said, and Alec turned to face him. Black eyes met his, serious and calculating and harsh.  
The rest of the boys face was almost child-like with apple-red cheeks and an arrangement of tidy black curls. 

He gave Alec a tired look, as if Alec had done something wrong. 

“Did he come in earlier? When I was-” 

“When you were late, yes, he did. He told us to work with the clay, to ‘learn it’ he said. I’m not learning anything.” The boy looked back to the mess in his stained hands. He held it up in front of him until it’s weight fell from his fingers and to the table with a thud. 

Alec wasn’t sure if the boy was extremely rude and apathetic or if it was just the way he talked. 

“Have you studied sculpture before?” He asked, after waiting for too long. The boy, busy with the clay in his dark hands, didn’t seem to notice. 

“No,” he said. “I don’t like elective classes and prefer to not take them, but since I am the youngest in all of this school and am enrolled in advanced classes, I was forced into this subject. Waste of my time. I suppose the school doesn’t want to look as if it is encouraging a minor to overexert himself. Pass me that pointed stick there.” 

A little dumbfounded, Alec did. The boy took it from him silently and without looking up from his work. Alec watched him for a heavy moment, then cleared his throat. “I’m Alec, by the way.” He said. He almost extended his hand, but decided against it and reached for the bag of clay. 

The boys eyes flitted up. At first Alec had thought they were black, but looking at them directly, he saw now that they were a deep brown and shot through with streaks of obsidian. They were oddly serious; Alec wondered how young he truly was and what had made him so old. 

“Raphael.” He said. He looked down again and began to lazily attack the clay with his stick. “Raphael Santiago.” 

* * *

Magnus had planned his day well. 

Wake up. Make himself beautiful. See his friends. Go to religions class. Find blue eyes and kiss him again. 

Maybe do more than kiss him. 

Last night, he had been annoyed with himself when he’d gotten home and realized that he had forgotten to ask for Alec’s number, and then he had sunk to the floor and grinned like an idiot. 

The party he had ditched to see Alec had still raged around him, and for once he couldn’t be bothered to join it. 

He had never, he’d realized, been so distracted by someone that he had forgotten to ask for their number. It was always his first step. 

With Alec, it seemed that his first step was blushing and smiling and trying not to be an idiot. 

Then he had been terrified; did this mean that Alec already was something special to him? 

Magnus was okay with that. 

He lay on his new old couch now, not so much studying as thinking about Alec. His mind was having trouble focusing on anything besides the other boy. 

He thought of Alec. His warm lips. His honest smile. His strong hands. His clear blue eyes. His dangerous, low murmurs. The way he never relented, just pushed for _more._ The clean cold of his lip ring as it touched Magnus’s skin and clacked against his teeth. 

Magnus had tried being timid last night, had done his best to go slow, but now he didn’t think he needed to be that way with Alec; when talking or holding his hand he did, but not when kissing. It was as if something inside Alec broke out the moment their lips touched. Like he became someone else entirely. 

Like he all of the sudden became himself. 

Magnus thought of Alec holding that ring between his teeth; he promised himself that he would do the same next time he saw him. 

Tonight. 

A knock sounded at the door. “You’re late,” Magnus called, in greeting. 

Raphael walked in and dropped his bag to the floor. “I was at my sculpture class.” He said, in greeting, and walked over to Magnus’s crappy kitchen. 

“Oh?” Magnus momentarily looked up from the book he was failing to study. “And how did that go? Was it insulting to your advanced mental capacity?” 

Magnus wasn’t looking at him, but he could feel Raphael’s simmering look. 

“I enjoyed it.” Raphael said shortly, and, finding the fridge empty, he went to the couch and sat at Magnus’s feet. 

This, Magnus knew, was a lie; Raphael said it only so that Magnus could not make fun of him. 

Raphael went on. “There was no professor, so I did not have to listen to a dimwit telling me how to roll a ball of mud. And my table partner was almost decent. Alec, I think his name was.” 

Magnus made a series of erratic movements that resulted with his book on the floor and him standing up, staring at his friend. 

“You met _Alec?_ ” he asked, voice rising to somewhere along the line of hysteria. “Alec. With blue eyes?” 

Magnus liked Alec. Liked him enough that he wanted Alec to meet his friends and spend time with them. His _friends._ Ragnor and Catarina. Raphael was like the weird uncle that everyone tended to avoid. 

“Yes,” Raphael said, his voice as unconcerned and clipped as before - only now he was smirking. “I met _Alec._ ” 

“What did you say to him?” Magnus asked. 

Raphael’s grin widened annoyingly. “Nothing.” He said. “But now I think I will say many things, next time.” 

“Of course you have a class with Alec.” Magnus said. “Of course _you_ have a class with Alec.” 

“I can’t believe you’ve already found someone to hook up with,” Raphael said. “Well, actually, I can. Easily.” 

“I’m not hooking up with him.” Magnus said. He almost wanted to laugh. He wasn’t sure if Raphael was joking or if he was just being rude. 

“Well, I don’t think that you could do better.” Raphael said, somewhat sincerely. “I do like his hair.” 

Magnus again thought about Alec’s hair. Long and coarse, but soft, the tangles catching as it slipped through his fingers. He felt himself begin to blush. 

“Me, too,” Magnus agreed dreamily. He straightened up and blinked. “Okay, you’re just making fun of me. I’m not talking about boys with you. I need to get to class.” 

Raphael stretched out on the couch. “I think I’ll stay here.” he said. “Unless you’re bringing Alec over and you need the place to yourself.” 

“It’s not like that.” Magnus said. Just to bother Raphael, he added, “Yet.” 

He grabbed his bag and patted his spiked hair. “If you’re staying, invite Catarina and Ragnor over.” 

“I will.” Raphael said. “I’ll tell them about Alec.” 

“Sure, and you and Ragnor can make lists of annoying things to do. It’s your thing now, isn’t it?” Magnus said lightly, though his pulse tripped at the thought of his friends discussing Alec. He wanted them to like him. Wanted it in a way he never had. He opened the door. 

“Maybe we’ll start a club.” Raphael mused. “We could get matching shirts.” 

“Just,” Magnus said, “don’t trash my apartment.”  
__________ 

Alec, exhausted, had collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep the moment he got back from sculpture. He woke now to insistent knocking at the door. 

He was immediately awake. _Magnus?_ He thought, hoped. 

His heart pounded harder and louder than the fist on the other side of the door. He opened it. 

_Oh,_ Alec thought, _help._

“Hey.” Magnus said, positively beaming. Alec’s heart skipped a beat, or five. 

Magnus held up two coffees and a bag that looked and smelled a lot like takeout. Silver paint colored the top edges of his upper eyelids, and it glimmered when he blinked.  
“I had class, and then it took me a while to find your room again. I’m not familiar with the dorms yet. And I brought dinner- well, early dinner, if you’re hungry.” 

He shook the bag a little when he said this, but that wasn’t what Alec was paying attention to. 

“I-” Magnus faltered for a moment. Alec realized that he was still peering around the side of the door and hadn’t said anything. He wasn’t sure if he had even made a facial expression. It was possible that Magnus’s presence robbed him of basic human abilities. 

“Is this okay?” Magnus asked. 

_He- is he blushing?_

“Yeah, _yeah._ ” Alec said, and he threw the door open, a little too eagerly. “I’d love dinner, that’s great.” 

He stepped back and let Magnus in, only this time with no accident involved. 

Alec mentally patted himself on the back. He could do this. 

He closed the door and turned around. 

Magnus sat on his bed. He was slowly taking out boxes of Chinese food and setting them up on the end table, and he held both coffees between his legs. His snug jeans strained over his bent thighs, outlining long and lightly muscled legs. 

Maybe Alec couldn’t do this. 

He looked down at his clay stained hands, frozen. There were dry fractures along the lifelines of his palms. 

The thing was, he knew how to handle art. He knew how to mix paints to bring out just the right color, knew how to press and mold a spinning piece of clay to imperfect perfection, knew how to channel his feelings into fitting words on a page. 

He had thought Magnus was art, thought that he was a beautiful piece to be pondered over and studied, but it was possible he was wrong. 

Magnus was a boy. A warm and breathing thing. He needed to be touched and kissed and loved up close. Alec needed to do more than admire him from a safe distance, from behind a warning sign, but he had no idea how to. 

He scrubbed a rough, stained hand across his forehead reminded himself to move. 

He walked across the room and sat at the very edge of the bed opposite Magnus. Magnus scooted forward as it sunk under his weight. 

“I hope you like Chinese,” He handed Alec a plastic fork, the other dangling between his lips. 

“I love it.” 

They ate until every box was empty, meaning they ate until they could hardly move. 

After shoving all of the boxes back into the bag and tossing it to the floor, Magnus stretched out on the bed, his side barely touching Alec. He closed his eyes and used his arms as a pillow, lips pulled up into a guileless smile. 

Alec watched him for a moment, silent; there was something very decidedly casual and carefree about the pose, which only made obvious how nervous Magnus was. 

_A boy,_ Alec thought, _nervous because of me._ It sent an unexpected thrill through him. 

Not to be outdone, he laid down beside Magnus, arms at his sides. Their shoulders just touched. 

Alec stared up at the ceiling. The cheap paint was worn and flaking. “I saw my sister today. I told her about you.” He said. “And I realized that I didn’t ask you more about your major last night. I didn’t ask what you want to do with it, and I should have.” 

Magnus’s voice was incredibly quiet, from fullness or something else, Alec didn’t know. “It’s okay,” he said. 

“No, it’s not. It’s just- when you asked me about my art, it was- no one ever does that, really, and I wish they did. But _you_ did. And that means a lot to me.” Alec’s voice ached, and he struggled for words, tried to make Magnus understand.  
“I want to know you. And I want to ask you questions, too. So,” he smiled and turned his head to look at Magnus, but Magnus had already been watching him. “Magnus,” he said. 

“Alexander,” Magnus replied, takeout food breath fanning across Alec’s face. 

“Tell me.” 

Magnus closed his eyes, his growing smile crinkling them at the corners. “Okay.” He said. “Okay. I want to be a history major for a lot of reasons. It’ll open up a lot of opportunities for me, I think. There’s so many jobs I’ll qualify for that I don’t need to worry about never becoming anything.  
“If I get that degree, I’m there. My mom used to tell me that if I make possibilities for myself, the world will become full of them. So being a history major is my first possibility.  
“And I grew up in foster care from the time I was seven, but before that- before that I had my mother. She’s the main reason.” 

His expression tightened, but Alec remained silent; Magnus would say what he felt comfortable with. 

“She loved history. She never went to college, she couldn’t, but she studied it as much as she could. Every story she told me involved a historical figure or event, and she would put us into them. It was her way to escape, I guess, but for me it was all I ever thought about. I cared about what happened in the past because we were _there._  
“My father- he was fucked up. He hurt her, but she never let him touch me. She protected me from him, and she gave me her love of history, too.” He let out a small sigh. “She wanted the world for me.” 

Alec turned onto his side, pillowing his head on one arm and reaching out with the other to cup Magnus’s neck. 

“I’m sorry.” He said. Soft wisps of Magnus hair brushed his fingertips. “She sounds really nice.” 

Magnus only smiled wider. His eyes swung back and forth under his pale, shadowed lids. 

“Alec,” he said. “Really. It’s okay. She had a hard life, and she had bad things happen to her. But we were- there were days that we were happy. And then she died.  
“So she got away from him- my dad. And after a few years I did too. Mild damage.” 

“Magnus-” Alec started. 

“I usually don’t tell people this much about me.” Magnus admitted. 

“It must be the Chinese food,” Alec whispered. 

Magnus opened his eyes, and his lips split to flash rows of white teeth. 

“Must be,” he said, and leaned forward. 

Alec closed the distance between them with a nod of his head. 

Alec kissed him carefully, remembering how Magnus had kissed him last night and trying to mimic it. He remembered wanting _more._ He held himself up on his elbows, just high enough to easily tilt his head and part Magnus’s lips. 

Magnus shifted to pull him closer, but Alec moved out of his arms reach. He crawled onto Magnus’s lap and kissed him again before the other boy could react. 

He braced one arm on the mattress and placed his other hand at Magnus’s throat again. 

“I like that we’re laying down this time.” Alec said, pressing his hips to Magnus’s. “Because now I can do this.” 

“Me too,” Magnus said, voice low and muffled on Alec’s lips. 

Alec held himself back. It would be so easy to lose himself, to become rushed, but he wanted to know Magnus. He liked having him like this, under his unhurried hands and untested mouth. Admiring was so much easier when you took your time. 

He gently traced the cords of Magnus’s throat, and felt the increasing speed of his pulse making his muscles shake. 

Magnus moved under him, his hands at Alec’s back. He sucked on Alec’s lower lip, his small gasps pulling at Alec’s lungs.  
Magnus broke away for a moment, drew in a breath from Alec’s open mouth, and he kissed Alec again, only now with a different intention; Alec could feel it. Magnus didn’t want to just kiss, he wanted to discover. 

He clearly wanted more, too. 

Magnus nipped gently at the corner of Alec’s mouth before sliding open-mouthed to his lip ring. His teeth took hold of it and he played with it, pulling it and twisting it and causing just the smallest pain. 

Alec jolted in surprise and groaned; just as he began to chase after this new feeling, Magnus released the ring and kissed him chastely. 

It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. Alec dug his fingers into Magnus’s neck and crushed his lips to his so hard that he felt his teeth.  
He licked just the edge of Magnus’s tongue and experimentally grinded down on his lap. 

Magnus followed into the contact and drug a hand down Alec’s back, his breaths desperate. 

Alec swallowed Magnus’s gasps down, worked to consume him. He couldn’t believe how good Magnus’s nails on his skin felt. Though it only existed in four parallel lines, the burning feeling seemed to crawl all over his body. He slid his hand from Magnus’s neck to press against his concave chest. 

He still didn’t know what he was doing, but it all felt so _good._

Magnus’s hands went to play at Alec’s shirt, then changed course and tugged at the tie in his hair until it came undone and slumped over his ears. 

“Fuck, Alec,” he said, voice muffled on Alec’s lips. He sat up and fisted a hand in Alec’s hair, holding it out of his face, even as he slipped the other under Alec’s shirt and clawed at his back.  
Alec moaned and rubbed his hand on Magnus’s chest, feeling the erratic beat of his heart; so solid and warm, and so completely present. 

Magnus said, “You say you’re new at this but- but god, you’re _good._ ” 

He nipped at the edges and corners of Alec’s mouth, then along the underside of his throat. He teased there, tasting skin made soft and sore last night. Alec tipped his head back and let out a shaky breath; Magnus really knew what he was doing. 

He thought about how Magnus was so good, what he must’ve done to know just how to make Alec feel like this, _who_ he must’ve done. 

And then he decided not to think about that. 

Alec said, “You could teach me more.” 

_What am I saying?_ He thought. His heart pounded in his ears. _What am I asking?_

Magnus laughed. “What do you want to learn?” He asked. He caught Alec in his arms and easily turned him so that he was beneath him. He knelt over him and pressed him into the mattress. 

Alec felt the entirety of Magnus’s body fitting to his. He felt Magnus, hard under his tight jeans, pressing against his thigh. 

He could imagine himself touching him there, saying, _Here. Teach me this._

Magnus was visibly breathing hard. Alec felt ecstatic at the sight. 

_I did this,_ he thought. 

He reached up to grab Magnus’s throat. He hadn’t kissed him there last night, and it felt overdue that he did now. 

The phone rang. 

Alec jumped and fumbled in his pockets, but Magnus was already holding his phone to his ear. 

“Hey, Catarina,” He said pleasantly, though his flushed face tightened. 

He rolled off of Alec and groaned at whatever the person on the receiving end was saying.  
Alec, with his heart still threatening to break his ribs, was nowhere near being done with Magnus, phone calls from friends be damned. 

Feeling bold, he murmured, just loudly enough for Magnus to hear, “You should hang that up and keep kissing me.” 

Magnus slanted his gaze over to Alec; he seemed to be struggling. 

“It’s Catarina,” he whispered, “I can’t.” 

Alec got up and sat on Magnus’s hips. He bent over him and kissed the vee of his throat. “Are you sure?” He asked, and ran a tedious hand up Magnus’s thigh. 

Magnus clamped a hand over his mouth, but a whine still slipped through his fingers. 

Alec faintly heard a questioning voice through the phone. 

“Okay, okay-” Magnus said, running his hand through his hair and making the deflated spikes stand up again. “Don’t let him- do not let him do that. No, I’m not, I’m- I’ll be there. Okay. Bye.” 

He dropped the phone with a defeated sigh. 

Alec bit at his ear. “Do you have to go?” He asked. 

“I should- but I could stay.” Magnus said. He slipped a hand under Alec’s shirt again and ran it across his tense muscles. Alec sat up, trying to ignore the hot adrenaline singing through him.  
He looked down at Magnus, at his rumpled shirt, his ruined hair, his flushed skin. 

“We could-” Magnus tried, “we could keep-” 

Alec crawled off of Magnus and stood up, trying to hide the shakiness of his legs. 

“Don’t ditch your friends for me,” he said, though Magnus’s reluctance to leave was making something catastrophic happen inside him. 

Magnus stood up, sending up a waft of sandalwood and something else Alec couldn’t place.  
He wondered if his bed would smell like that now. 

Magnus set his elbows on Alec’s shoulders and played with some tangled strands of his hair.  
This close, Alec could see his still swiftly tapping pulse. 

“Go,” he said. “I have to see Jace anyways.” 

This was a lie. Alec was just trying not to make Magnus feel bad. He was sure that Jace would come over and they could go do something together, but Alec would much rather paint or catch up on sleep. 

Or maybe he would call Jace. Maybe he would show Jace the broken down building so that it could exist somewhere besides his head. 

“I am,” Magnus said, but he just kept petting Alec’s hair. His eyes dropped to Alec’s mouth and stayed there. “You should meet them- well, you’ve already met Catarina, but you didn’t really talk. And Raphael told me you met him in sculpture today, which is unfortunate. But there’s still Ragnor.” 

Alec chewed on his lip. Magnus’s eyes tracked the movement. “Aren’t you supposed to wait for that? I mean- we’re not, like,” he had been looking at Magnus’s regrettably unmarked throat but now met his eyes. 

Magnus’s eyes were tender. “Dating?” He suggested. “I like you, Alec. And I’d _like_ to keep doing this, with you.” He twirled a strand of hair around his finger. “I’d like to take you on dates. I’d like to keep kissing you. And I’d like to introduce you to my friends, because that’s what you do when you like someone.” 

_Like_ rang in Alec’s mind. He felt like an overexcited little kid. 

“I want all of that. Really. I do.” He said, and nodded for emphasis.  
Magnus grinned and let Alec go. He turned to gather his things. 

Alec worried that Magnus was wondering why he didn’t offer for him to meet Jace. But maybe he had already forgotten. 

It wasn’t that Magnus wasn’t important to him, too. It was just that Jace wouldn’t understand. He couldn’t know. 

And it was possible that Alec wasn’t ready for Jace to know this side of him. It was possible that he wasn’t ready for the possibility of him and Jace to become nonexistent. 

This thing he and Magnus had felt too fragile; Alec worried that too much pressure would break it. For once, he wanted something that wasn’t complicated. 

“Thanks for dinner,” He said. 

“I’ll take you out next time, if you want.” Magnus said. 

“Or we could get takeout again,” Alec suggested, “and watch a movie.” 

He was thinking about laying with Magnus. He was thinking about touching him in ways he hadn’t yet while they both pretended to care about the movie. 

“Oh?” Magnus said. “What movie?” 

Alec didn’t care. He wouldn’t be watching it.

“Surprise me.” He said. He took Magnus’s hand and walked to the door. 

He opened it and set Magnus in the hallway, then dropped his hand and hung onto the doorframe. 

“I won’t keep you from your friends right now,” Alec said, “but you’re mine tomorrow night. Okay?” 

“Tomorrow.” Magnus said, terribly earnest. 

“Tomorrow,” Alec confirmed, terribly earnest. 

Magnus grinned, and Alec took him by the front of his shirt. He drug him over to his mouth.  
“Go,” he said softly. He nipped at Magnus’s lower lip before pushing him away and turning to close the door. 

Magnus let out a strangled laugh and grabbed the door. “Wait,” He said, “Wait, I forgot step one. Can I have your number?” 


	6. mc ch6

malec college au chapter 6

word count - 8.8k

my lovely beta reader - [@glitterycateyes](http://tmblr.co/muspDYgtToxC6JgcTPpaz6g)

hope you like it!! :-)

* * *

The next afternoon, as he was heading to his calculus class, Alec received a series of texts from Magnus.

_Hey alexander_

_do you want to come to my place tonight? you can pick a movie and I’ll make us dinner_

Alec took more time considering his reply then he would care to admit. He’d never texted Magnus; it seemed like a monumental step.

He had also never been to Magnus’s apartment.

 _you can cook?_ He finally replied, hoping Magnus found it cute, hoping it didn’t sound discouraging.

Alec’s phone chimed instantly and just as he walked into class.

_i can do lots of things ;) my apartments at crestview, number 17. 7:00? wear your pjs_

Alec had no idea what to think. All he knew for sure was that he really wanted to see Magnus. The professor began to speak at the front of class.

 _yeah, I’ll be there._ he replied, and he put his phone in his bag.

* * *

Jace was leaning against the wall opposite Alec’s classroom door when he walked out.

He peeled his eyes away from whatever girl he had been looking at and kicked off from the wall.

“Hey,” he said, knocking his fist against Alec’s.

“Hey,” Alec said. A student walking by bumped into his shoulder as she smiled at Jace.

“Calculus?” Jace said.

“Yeah,”

“Horrible?”

“Like torture.”

“I know. I’ve been ignoring the homework. We’ll study together. Hey, anyways, I told you about Jordan’s band, right?”

“No.” Alec shifted his bag on his shoulder.

“Okay, well, he’s in a band.”

“Really,” Alec said.

Jace rolled his eyes; his tawny hair fell across them as his head followed the movement. An action he’d adopted from Alec. “They’re having this big gig tonight. And Jordan wants you to come.”

Alec stared at Jace suspiciously. “He wants me to come?”

The only time he had spent with Jordan had been brief and uncomfortable, when they had met on the first day on campus and eaten burritos in the crowded public seating area. Alec didn’t well remember doing anything to make a good impression.

“He thought you seemed nice, I guess.” Jace said, then smirked and added, “Or you’re just for a higher body count.”

Alec rolled his eyes and he began to walk towards the dorms; they were close, already in near sight.

“What time?” He asked. He supposed that to really get the most out of your college experience you had to go to a crappy band performance at least once. He wasn’t going to miss seeing Magnus for it, though. Fuck the college experience.

“Five,” Jace said, taking his phone from his pocket and checking the current time. “And I was going to get there an hour early to help set up, so we should leave in two hours.”

“I like how you always assume I’ll drive you anywhere,” Alec said.

“I could just steal your car.” Jace said.

“You lost your keys.” Alec reminded him. They had reached the dorms and by the time Alec was turning his key in the lock of his room, Jace had convinced him to act as the bands biggest fan.

Jace flicked the coffee machine on as he walked by it and then plopped down on Alec’s bed. He bent and took some papers out of his bag.

Alec stood by the coffee machine, waiting. He watched Jace organize his things; he couldn’t help but think about Magnus sitting there - laying there - just last night.

“Have you got homework?” Jace asked. His face was bent over his notebook, and his hair obscured most of his expression from view. The slipping neckline of his t-shirt revealed golden skin that Alec knew all too well.

“Alec?” Jace said, looking up and waving his pencil at Alec.

Alec nodded and turned to the beeping coffee machine. He filled two mugs with black coffee, headed for the bed, retraced his steps when Jace demanded sugar, added a few spoonfuls of sweetener to one mug, then finally settled opposite Jace on the bed.

Alec carefully handed Jace his mug. If they touched at all while on the bed, Alec would think of Magnus with him here, and that felt wrong.

Alec sipped his coffee as he pulled books and papers out of his bag. He settled them on his lap and tied his hair back.

“Ready?” He said.

Jace nodded.

* * *

When Alec and Jace made their way to the end of the dorm hall, half-done class papers safe in their bags, Jordan had just turned the corner and was walking towards them. He preformed an unnecessarily elaborate hand-shake with Jace, then gave Alec an unprecedented smile.

The three of them made casual conversation as they headed to Alec’s car. Alec couldn’t believe how at ease he felt.

 _Good,_ He thought. _Everything’s working out so far._

“By the way,” Jace said as they clambered into the BMW, “we have to pick up a few of the band members.”

Alec held back a groan. “How many?” He asked. Jace, sitting in the passenger seat, looked back to Jordan for help.

“I thought you knew, sorry, Alec,” Jordan said. He had a nice voice, and every word sounded sun-kissed and sweet. He leaned forward from the back seat so that he could be heard easier. “Just Tyler, Will, and Nick. Three. Then there’s some equipment, but that could go in the trunk?”

“Yeah, it can,” Alec said, “but I don’t have enough seats.”

“I don’t mind having someone sit on me, or the other way around.” Jordan said.

“Okay,“ Alec cleared his throat. “Where do I go?”

* * *

As it turned out, the other band members lived together in an apartment complex near campus. They all clambered into the car with unrestrained enthusiasm and offered excited handshakes.

Nick, as affable as Jordan but twice as lanky, was folded up against the side of the car. From this unfortunate angle, he handed Jace his phone with directions to the open bar they were playing at, and Jace relayed these to Alec in between snippets of conversation with the boys in the back.

After a few minutes of driving and listening to the story of how Will had almost lost his left thumb in a theatre accident, Alec pulled into the back lot of a small club.

“They go on in about 20 minutes,” Jace said to Alec as they all got out.

Tyler, who had been quiet for most of the ride, opened the trunk and began to hand out various pieces of band equipment with mechanic like precision. He was clearly the commander of the equipment.

Jordan took a guitar and held it out to Alec. “This ones mine,” he said.

Alec took the guitar happily; he had always liked musical instruments, but had never been allowed to play them; his father had preferred that his sons artistic interests were quiet and easily hidden.

He closed his fingers around the guitars neck and let them run over the frets, with just enough pressure that a soft hum sounded. The guitar was sleek and oddly beautiful, electric. He traced the lines of the strings, then down the base, so distracted that Jace had to call him to get him to come to.

“Sorry,” Alec said. Every band member was holding their instruments and equipment by the door, waiting patiently for their distracted chauffeur. Jace gave Alec a smile and drummed the air with sticks, mouthing, _ba dum tss!_

Alec smiled. He followed the other boys inside.

* * *

Once in, everyone immediately dispersed, all of them dedicated to their afore assigned role in setting up. Holding Jordan’s guitar and unsure of what to do with it or himself, Alec leaned against an exposed brick wall and watched.

He was horribly tempted to take his phone out and text Magnus, even though he couldn’t think of anything to say. He just wanted to engage. Again. He couldn’t get enough.

Instead he just watched; he was good at observing people, and he enjoyed it.

The bar was small but comfortably so, featuring local artwork and mismatched metal and wooden tables and chairs. Said tables and chairs were clustered together on an open tiled floor, with a modest bar behind them and a small stage in front. Nick, Tyler, Will, and Jace were on stage assembling equipment while Jordan walked around the floor, adjusting tables and turning them to the stage for proper attention.

Alec watched Jordan. Today he wore a t-shirt, just like the last time Alec had seen him, only now it featured a design. Alec was almost sure it was for the band, like the one Jace had tried to push on him, to make him look more like a _real fan._

It seemed that Jordan moved differently than other people, like he was acting in a movie; everything theatrical and calculated. Like he knew exactly what made him look good. Like he knew just how well the dim lights above him made his figure look.

When he lifted his arms, the words inked on them shifted, and Alec felt a strange urge to get a closer look, though he knew he couldn’t read the language.

He brought his attention back to the guitar in his hands, and then to his feet. He stared down at them, absently fingering the strings of the guitar and listening to the other boys; Nick pushing drums around, Tyler humming into a microphone, Will laughing, Jace untangling cords.

Alec liked this, liked spending time with Jace and new people who seemed interesting and interested, and he tried to focus on the boys here instead of Magnus, at his apartment, waiting.

_Two hours two hours two hours-_

“Hey,”

Alec looked up. “Hi, Jordan,” he said.

Jordan’s eyes were bigger up close, and more present because of the now visible hazel streaks through them. His hair was semi-neat, like he had run his hands though it a few times.

Jordan gestured behind him to where a few tables had begun to fill, and Alec distantly saw Jace getting drinks from the bar.

“We’re going on in a second, so-”

“Oh, yeah,” Alec said, handing Jordan the guitar. He was reluctant to give it up. “Here.”

Jordan smiled and took it, his fingers brushing Alec’s as he did so. He slung the strap over his shoulder and let the guitar hang in front of him.

“Nice crowd,” Alec said. “Do you guys play here often?”

Jordan shook his head. “Nick and Tyler put up lots of flyers. Pays off. This is our first gig since school started, actually.”

Jordan turned to see Jace heading towards them, grinning like a maniac and with a few shots held precariously in his hands.

“By the way,” Jordan said, “you and Jace - you guys are best friends, right? That’s all?”

“Yeah,” Alec said, wishing that the _that’s all?_ didn’t bother him. Did he and Jace seem like something less to Jordan? “Best friends. We grew up together.”

“That’s really cool,” Jordan said, waving Jace over. His smile was unreadable but still clearly genuine. “Friends like that are so important. You really need each other.”

Alec just nodded. He wondered if Jordan was somehow already drunk, or at least close. He seemed too honest, too real.

Jace made his way to Jordan and Alec. “Will said five minutes,” he said, then handed both Alec and Jordan a shot.

“For luck?” Alec said.

“For fun,” Jordan answered.

Alec glanced at Jace meaningfully. “I guess I’ve already been appointed designated driver, too.” He said.

Jace clapped Alec on the back. “I don’t even have to ask. Knew I could count on you.”

Alec rolled his eyes and threw his shot back. One wouldn’t hurt.

“Okay, ready,” Jordan said. He knocked his shot back and handed Alec the empty glass. A knowing smile flashed across his soft features. “Enjoy the show.”

* * *

For a few songs worth Alec stood with Jace to the right of the stage, near the back door where the car was parked. At first he leaned against the wall, arms crossed and thoughts wandering, listening to the average sounds of guitar and drum notes leading into a song. He wasn’t at all playing his role of _real fan_ until Jordan opened his mouth.

Alec made some noise low in his throat that sounded a lot like choking. He watched Jordan strum his guitar, fingers long and slow and easy, and he watched Jordan close his eyes and lean into the mic so that his mouth almost touched it. Jordan’s eyes moved visibly under their lids, like the song he sang and everything else in the night was a dream only he saw.

His brown hair had started to curl with sweat, and the curls floated along his flushed cheeks and forehead as he swayed on his feet.

“Alec?” Jace said now, after a few songs of staring, “You there?”

Alec snapped his head over to Jace. “Oh, um, yeah. I just didn’t expect-” he gestured to the stage. “That. Jordan can really sing.”

Jace hummed in agreement. “He can. And he loves to. Especially early in the morning, when I’m just not awake enough to hear the whole track list of High School Musical.”

Alec laughed. “Appreciate the talent,” he said.

Jace’s tone was grieving. “I appreciate my sleep.”

Alec looked at Jace. _Really_ looked at him.

He had known Jace all his life; he knew him better than he knew himself. There was no _that’s all?_ to them; they were everything. So many of his memories belonged to Jace, so much of his life wrapped around Jace’s. They were forever entangled in one another as if by some sacred ceremony.

Alec could tell Jace anything, couldn’t he?

“Jace,” Alec said. He could feel his palms go slick with sweat against his clenched fingers. “I have to tell you something.”

Half distracted by the band - currently Jordan was thanking the crowd and preparing for their final song - Jace picked at his nails and nodded. “Yeah?”

Alec remembered when he had told Isabelle he was gay, the both of them so young.

 _“Isabelle,”_ he’d said, _“I like boys.”_

 _“I know,”_ she had said. _“It’s okay.”_

Alec looked down at his feet. “I really don’t want you to be upset,” He said. He felt unsteady, so he leaned against the wall. “Or… uncomfortable.”

The crowd cheered. Jordan strummed his guitar, and banging drums echoed through the room.

Alec couldn’t do this here. He couldn’t do this at all.

“Alec,” Jace said. “What is it?”

Alec knew that he should have just said it; leading up to the truth gave him time to lose his nerve.

He coughed, and then laughed hollowly. “There’s this building, downtown, and it’s small and- it’s for sale, I mean. I was thinking of renting it, or buying it. For my art. I just wanted to tell you.”

Jace turned toward Alec fully. “Why would that make me upset?” He said, and he hugged Alec, hard and quick. A _that’s all_ hug. “I mean,” Jace said, letting Alec go, “as long as you don’t dropout of school and become some artsy hobo, this is really great. You deserve that, you’ve always wanted it.”

Alec smiled at the floor. He had missed this, these past few days. “Thanks,” he said.

Jace clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “We should go out by the car. You can tell me about it. They’ll be out in a second.”

* * *

Alec leaned against the back of his BMW, staring down at the time on his phone screen and feeling the chill of the night air seep into his skin. Jace had gone inside to help pack up the band equipment and poison his body with more liquor, but Alec had wanted to wait here.

He’d be with Magnus in an hour.

“Hey, Alec,”

Alec looked up; he hadn’t heard the back door of the bar closing.

“Hi, Jordan,” Alec said. He looked behind Jordan, but saw no one. Probably Jace and the other boys were still inside packing up.

Jordan followed Alec’s gaze. “A friend that came is going to take us all to his place, so you don’t need to worry about being chauffeur.”

“Oh,” Alec said, relief unfurling in his chest, along with something else he didn’t care to put a name to. “Good.”

Jordan nodded and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “They’re all packing up our stuff, so I have to go help finish up, but I wanted to ask you something.”

Alec stopped leaning on his car and stood up straight. This was starting to feel like the beginning of a real conversation, the kind he only really ever had with Isabelle and Jace.

He belatedly realized that maybe Jordan was the kind of person who _only_ had real conversations; there was something strangely bright and loud in him. Alec wondered if it ever left him exhausted.

“There’s a party this weekend,” Jordan said. A single lock of brown hair fell over his forehead. “On Saturday. And I know you haven’t gone to any parties with Jace and I yet, but I thought that- maybe that might change, if I was the one inviting you.”

“Oh, um,” Alec said. “is Jace going?”

He had deliberately been looking away from Jordan, but now he met his eyes.

Jordan stepped closer, and Alec noted the differences in their heights; Jordan’s frozen breath blew across his neck. He smelled faintly of tequila and lime.

“Sure, Jace can go, if you want.”

“Well I’ll- that sounds fun. I don’t know if I can go, but I’ll text Jace. And he can tell you.”

“Okay.” Jordan said. He began to back away. “They’ll probably leave me if I don’t get back, so I’ll see you Saturday? Maybe?”

“Yeah,” Alec said, almost sure that he wouldn’t go. “Maybe.”

* * *

The truth was, Magnus didn’t know how to cook, but he wasn’t such a disaster that spaghetti was beyond his skill level.

He stood in his tiny kitchen, holding a giant spoon and watching noodles float around in boiling water. His tastefully cliché _kiss the cook_ apron wasn’t heightening his confidence in the way insensible and strange clothes usually did. He felt… undone.

He looked over his shoulder to Raphael, who was sitting on the countertop and looking gloomy. Raphael, along with Catarina and Ragnor, had come over to help Magnus prepare for Alec coming over and to give him tips.

After Magnus had told his friends about his and Alec’s first date, and after Ragnor and Raphael had finished making fun of him, Catarina began to excitedly talk about the second date and hadn’t yet stopped. Already convinced of their fairytale love, she was helping most to plan it.

 _Not helping,_ Magnus thought fondly, _she’s taking over._

“Get him flowers,” Catarina suggested now. “It’s sweet.” She hovered over Magnus’s shoulder, watching the pasta to make sure he didn’t ruin it.

From his post beside Raphael, Ragnor commented, “He’s an art guy, though, so make sure you get the right kind. You know, because of flower language.” He stared off for a moment, then added, “Roses say you want to fuck, and daisies are like, holding hands or something.”

Magnus pointed his spoon at Ragnor. “You’re stressing me out. And is there one for both? Can you Google it?” He pointed at Catarina, “Flowers. Yes, good idea. You’re amazing.” He pointed at Raphael. “I can feel you complaining. What is it?”

Raphael, sitting on the counter and swinging his legs, stared moodily at the boiling pot of pasta. He wore gray sweatpants and a blue sweatshirt, and his brown hair was neatly combed out of his face; he looked ridiculously young. It unsettled Magnus sometimes to be reminded of his age. “You haven’t fed me yet.”

“Why’re you cooking anyways?” Ragnor asked. He peered into the pot. “You never cook. Are you trying to kill us? Please don’t. Because I’m two stamps away from a free smoothie at Java Juice, and it’d be a shame to waste that opportunity.”

“I never said anything about feeding you.” Magnus said, pushing Ragnor away so that he could expertly stir the noodles and sauce. “And I cook… sometimes. I’m making Alexander pasta. It has to be perfect.”

“So that’s how you win them all over,” Raphael muttered, mood lowered and rude sarcasm sharpened with his hunger.

Ragnor laughed, and he leaned into Raphael to whisper something tastefully offensive. Magnus couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed; he was simply just happy.

Happy about his friends. Happy about Alec. Happy about the fact that the pasta hadn’t yet caught on fire.

So happy. So stupidly happy.

“Does he like theatre?” Catarina asked, bringing Magnus back to attention. “Like plays?”

Magnus shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “I think. That falls into the art category, right? But I don’t know- he told me about painting and sculpture, so I knew he would like the art museum. That was safe. But he does like poetry, and that’s kind of like theatre.”

“Sort of,” Catarina said. “You could - hey, stir that - you could take him to poetry night at The Drowsy Poet. I went there with a girl in my creative writing class, it’s really cute. They do readings all night.”

Raphael sniggered. “Maybe Magnus could read a poem to Alexander,” he said. “That’s how you _really_ get the art guys.”

Ragnor threw a dramatic hand across his forehead. “ _Alexander with eyes so blue,_ ” he whispered, “ _I’d really like to fuck you,_ ”

“Gross,” Catarina said. “Stop.”

Magnus laughed. He drained the spaghetti and added it to the sauce pan.

“ _Pretty boy with black hair,_ ” Raphael tried, “ _I’d like to get down there,_ ”

Magnus cast a forlorn look at Catarina. “Why did I invite them over?” He asked her. “I have so many regrets.”

He looked over to Raphael. “You’re too young to talk about sex,” he said, “and your poetry doesn’t make sense. Aren’t twelve year old geniuses supposed to be amazing at everything?”

“I’m fifteen, not twelve. And poetry doesn’t require any intellectual ability.” Raphael told him, offhand and defiant and all knowing. “Give me some spaghetti. Alec won’t care.”

“Me too,” Ragnor said.

Magnus sighed, but there was more happiness than exasperation in it. He looked at Catarina. “Hungry?”

* * *

Magnus sat on his couch with Catarina’s head in his lap. Ragnor and Raphael slurped spaghetti while looking over his shoulder at the laptop on Catarina’s bent legs. Catarina pulled up a French movie that Magnus supposed Alec might like; he couldn’t follow it, since he was more invested in watching the clock - in counting down the minutes until Alec would be there - but he caught enough to know that it had something to do with painting.

Magnus ran his fingers through Catarina’s hair.

“What’s this called?” He asked.

“I can’t pronounce it,” Catarina said. She clicked the screen so that the title popped up. _J'ai Tué Ma Mère._

“Oh,” Magnus said, pointing to the english translation underneath, “It’s ‘I Killed my Mother’. Interesting. Can I borrow your laptop? Maybe I’ll watch it with Alec.”

Catarina nodded. “Do we get to see him?” She asked. “Or do we have to leave before he gets here?”

“I was thinking about that, I told him that I want him to meet you guys, but I didn’t tell him you would be here. And I told him to wear pajamas, so I don’t want him to be embarrassed. Not that he normally dresses well anyways, but- I don’t know. Next time?”

“Aww,” Raphael cooed, “he’s already planning ‘next time’s.”

Catarina blindly threw a hand back to push the younger boys face away, but she missed and smacked Magnus’s cheek instead; she didn’t seem to notice the difference.

Raphael giggled.

“Shut up,” Magnus said, his cheek stinging just slightly. “You’ve already made fun of my sappy feelings. I’m setting a limit.”

“According to your sappy feelings,” Raphael said, “they have no limit.”

Magnus closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing the ridiculous truth of it. Then he said, “Okay, Alec’s going to be here soon.” If he was on time, _soon_ meant _30 minutes._ Magnus was painfully aware of the time.

Catarina sat up and put her laptop on Magnus’s cheap end table. She waved to Ragnor and Raphael; the two set their bowls beside the laptop and stood up, Raphael unnecessarily leaning on Magnus’s shoulder as he did so.

Magnus picked up the bowls, quickly deposited them in the sink, then walked his friends to the door.

Catarina pointed to her laptop. “Don’t break it,” she said.

Magnus rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand in her direction. “I’ll give it back to you tomorrow,” he promised. He opened the door with a flourish and ushered his friends into the hallway.

“Hey. Use protection.” Raphael advised.

Magnus patiently waited for a partnering comment from Ragnor, but he was staring down at his phone.

He leaned out and pecked Catarina on the cheek.

“Have fun,” she said.

“I will. I’ll call you after,” Magnus promised. Now that they were almost gone and Alec was almost there, his nerves were exploding in his chest. He reached over and ruffled Raphael’s hair. Ragnor habitually ducked out of his reach.

Catarina nodded and mouthed _bye._ She threw one arm over Ragnor’s shoulder and one over Raphael’s, which looked uncomfortable due to the height difference.

Magnus watched his friends walk down the hall for a moment, then he closed the door and ran back inside.

He peered into the pot regretfully. He had made enough spaghetti to feed a small army, but thanks to Raphael it was all gone.

Magnus pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to think. He let out a long breath, told himself to stop being ridiculous, and started heating another pot of water. He could do simple everyday human tasks; Alec’s coming over didn’t stop him from functioning completely.

Hoping that his apartment wouldn’t burn down, he hurried over to his bedroom and flung himself onto a chair in front of the mirror.

Growing up in foster care, Magnus had never had a room that was truly his. Sure, on a few occasions, he’d had a room he didn’t have to share, but it wasn’t really his. He’d always known that soon enough another kid would replace him.

He loved his room here. He loved everything about it; the tacky wallpaper, the crack in the paneled floor, the odd stain on the flaking ceiling.

He looked around. A bed, with the sheets bundled up at the foot and many pillows scattered over and tucked under them; a dresser, small and blue and unmatchable to anything, it’s drawers gaping open like they knew Magnus well already and were expecting him to change again; a stack of books, small and almost unnoticeable, the most expensive things in the room. The most expensive except for, possibly, Magnus’s makeup. Magnus almost couldn’t believe it. It was all his.

He turned back to the mirror. His eyeliner was a bit smudged under his eyes, and his hair was wilting on one side. He fixed both quickly. He checked the time. Ten minutes.

Magnus returned to the kitchen. He added the noodles to the boiling water and set the sauce on. He went back to his room and debated changing; whoever said that pajamas couldn’t be fashionable had never seen Neiman Jaye’s 2016 collection.

Magnus had quite a few pairs of designer pajamas to choose from; it was nerve wracking.

Catarina always nagged Magnus about his expensive taste; she said that he had to dress in thrift-shop clothes like all the other struggling foster kids. Magnus simply couldn’t; nothing in the thrift stores that he had seen ever had enough glitter.

Currently, he was wearing red plaid pajama pants and a loose black t-shirt. The top outlined his chest and arms nicely, and the bottoms did wonderful things for his ass, but he still doubted. _What if Alec doesn’t like plaid?_ he thought, _what if it’s not aesthetically pleasing enough?_

He began to pull at the already open drawers of the dresser, then froze when a tight knock sounded at the door.

With as much grace and dignity as he could muster, Magnus ran over to the door and pulled it open. He opened his mouth to explain everything; his tasteless pajamas, the unfinished and most likely ruined pasta, the state of his hair. He hung onto the doorframe.

Alec stood in the hallway, clad in gray sweatpants and a ratty black hoodie. Probably the whole ensemble had been found in a dumpster. Probably it was a biohazard. His blue eyes flicked up from his feet to Magnus’s, and he smiled.

Magnus melted against the door.

“Hi,” Alec said. He was really smiling. _He was already smiling._

Magnus wanted to grab him and kiss him. He wanted to tug on the fraying strings of Alec’s hoodie. He wanted to push that mess of half tied up hair out of those blue eyes. He held open the door and let Alec in.

“Hey, Alexander,” he said. “I like your pajamas.”

“Oh, thanks, they were- I just got them from my closet.”

Magnus closed the door and swallowed a laugh.

“I mean,” Alec said, “of course I got them from there, I don’t-”

“Alec, I like them.” Magnus said again.

Alec was flushed, the escaped strands of his black hair just touching his reddening cheeks. His widening smile made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

Magnus walked to his kitchen, moving slowly enough that he stayed beside Alec and could watch the other boys reaction to his apartment.

All Alec was looking at was Magnus.

Magnus moved to stand in front of the stove and he played with the spaghetti spoon.

“Are you hungry?” He asked.

Alec leaned against the corner connecting the kitchen to the main area. He chewed back a smile. “This is the cooking you were talking about?”

Magnus made a show of stirring the noodles, and he ran a hand over his hair. “Making spaghetti right is a fine art, Alexander. I thought that you would appreciate it.”

Alec laughed, and then he was in front of Magnus; this wasn’t a drastic move, considering the small kitchen could barely fit the both of them as is, but Magnus’s pulse still jumped.

“I appreciate it,” Alec said, and he looped his arms around Magnus’s neck. He leaned in, smelling of coffee and mint and turpentine. Magnus closed his eyes. Alec’s lips settled on his, and Magnus dropped the spoon to the counter so that he could hold Alec properly by the neck.

Alec let out a warm, hollow breath that tickled Magnus’s lips. He stooped low to kiss Magnus, tilting his head up from the lower angle. He pulled Magnus down to him, making him lean in, making him feel more like he might fall.

Magnus’s stomach dropped to his knees, and they began to shake.

He pressed the pads of his fingers into the soft skin of Alec’s nape and pet strands of hair that had escaped from his bun. He trailed one hand up Alec’s throat, then along his jawline, and pulled his chin up.

Alec made a small, needful sound low in his throat and he pressed Magnus against the counter, though he did it carefully, and Magnus made a conscious effort not to urge him on too much; tearing into each other could wait. Though Magnus really did want to pick Alec up and take him to his room, he wanted even more badly to have a textbook date.

Making out in the kitchen. Dinner. A movie. Maybe making out some more. A kiss at the door and a promise to call.

Alec’s arms around Magnus’s neck tightened for a moment, pulling Magnus further and making him think that maybe they’d end up on the floor. That he’d be perfectly okay with that.

Then Alec let go and backed away.

“Sorry,” Alec said. Magnus stared at him. He couldn’t note that Alec’s disheveled state was out of the ordinary, but he did see with some satisfaction that Alec’s cheeks and throat were prettily flushed and his breath was quicker than normal.

Magnus grinned. “I’ll make spaghetti more often, if you _appreciate_ it so much.”

Alec ducked his head, still shy, and he pointed at the stove. “Yeah. I do. Sorry, but- it’s boiling over.”

“Oh,” Magnus said, turning around, his heart still tripping. “Oh, fuck,”

“Here,” Alec said, reaching over Magnus and plucking the spoon from his hand. He lowered the heat under the noodles and shifted a few other things, and before Magnus knew it Alec had him sitting on the counter and watching in amazement.

“I used to cook a lot for my siblings,” Alec told him. “Both of my parents have really demanding jobs and they’re not home that much, so I had to learn.”

Alec’s hoodie was oversized and worn, and it bunched up around his arms and waist; his sweatpants were just low enough that Magnus could glimpse a strip of pale skin at his stomach.

“I never really cook,” Magnus told him. “Since I was never in my own home I wasn’t really allowed to, so I’m _trying_ to learn.”

“Maybe I could teach you,” Alec said quietly.

Magnus reached over and grabbed Alec’s shoulder - that’s how small the kitchen was - and pulled him backwards. He turned him in his arms to face him, and Alec’s cheeks went red. Redder.

“I can’t promise that I’d be a good student,” Magnus told him.

Alec half heartedly waved the spoon over his shoulder, but he stepped closer. His hips were framed by Magnus’s legs. “It’s going to over cook,”

Magnus trailed a hand down Alec’s chest and tugged on a hoodie string once, like he was ringing a bell. “My point exactly.” He said.

Alec shook his head, smiling adorably, and he turned and drained the noodles. Magnus jumped down from the counter, got out bowls and forks, and made a bowl for each of them.

“It’s a five star meal,” Alec said, pride in his voice that, though Magnus couldn’t understand it, he could enjoy it.

Magnus took Alec’s hand - it still felt so good to hold his hand - and pulled him onto the couch.

“I know that I said you could pick the movie,” he said, “but I found one that I think you’ll like. Catarina showed it to me, actually. Is that okay?”

Alec smiled and nodded. “Yeah, that’s okay.” He twirled spaghetti around his fork. “What’s it called?”

He sat cross-legged beside Magnus, his knee just touching Magnus’s thigh.

Magnus grabbed Catarina’s laptop and set it in his lap. “It’s French. ‘I Killed my Mother’,” he said. He pulled the movie up and restarted it. While it loaded, he turned to face Alec, crossing his legs like a little kid.

Alec raised his eyebrows. “It’s about murder?”

“No! I mean, maybe, I don’t know.” Magnus said. “I just saw that it’s about art, or painting, at least. I thought that you might like it.”

“Oh,” Alec said, his face visibly softening. His face was cast into shadow, due to the poor lighting in the apartment, but one strand of late sun fell across his eyes, washing them out. Magnus could just make out the blue in them.

“Thanks,” Alec said. He shifted closer to Magnus. “I… Magnus, that’s…” He shook his head, making his bun bounce, “I don’t know what to say when you do things like this. Like the art museum, that was… You know that I’ve never dated. Anyone. Not that we’re dating, I mean. It’s just that- I like this. And you. But I want you to know that sometimes - that a lot of the time - I don’t know what to do.”

“Is this a date?” Magnus asked him. He paused the movie. “I mean, when you came over here, what were you thinking?”

Alec pulled his top lip between his teeth. He said, “I was thinking that I like being with you. And I like you.”

“And you like doing this?” Magnus said softly. He knocked his knee against Alec’s, and Alec smiled and pushed back. “Coming over, watching movies, kissing me?”

Alec nodded; his head was drooping and his face was mostly obscured by fallen strands of hair, but Magnus could see the widening of his smile.

Alec took one of Magnus’s hands in his own and held it between them. “Yeah,” he breathed, “I like it.”

“So we’re dating.” Magnus said hesitantly. He squeezed Alec’s fingers.

Alec squeezed back. “We’re dating,” he acknowledged.

Magnus tugged Alec towards him. His heart felt light and flippant in his chest. Alec leaned against him with a quiet sigh.

“So he killed his mother?”

“I don’t know.” Magnus said. “Maybe.”

* * *

Magnus was glad that the movie was in French and needed to be read in subtitles. It was almost halfway through, and Alec was so focused on it that Magnus could freely watch him.

Alec was still leaning against his chest, and Magnus still loosely held one of his hands. There was something bright and new inside of him. He wondered if Alec felt it, too.

Alec ran his thumb along Magnus’s knuckles; his pale, chapped skin and neglected nails contrasted starkly against Magnus’s dark skin and manicured ones. He debated eventually asking Alec if he could paint his nails.

“Remember,” Alec said, voice quiet, “when I had that number written on my wrist? The second day we met.”

“Yes, I remember,” Magnus said, pleased that Alec recollected such a small detail.

“It’s for this small building that’s for rent. In town. It could be for my art,” he gestured to the screen. “Like that, but smaller.”

Magnus looked at the screen. There was a brief showing of a tall, white building, and two boys walking towards it, before it flashed to the two boys standing inside an elevator. They got out and walked into an open and well lit room, and began to fling paint at a wall.

“Have you called?” Magnus asked. He looked to Alec again. The fluorescent glow of the laptop screen cast Alec’s profile into shadow, and he looked more like art than anything Magnus had ever seen. Magnus tilted his head to better admire him. “Because you deserve that. You really do.”

Alec wasn’t wearing his lip ring today, but his hair more than made up for it; he had it tied up in a low bun, and straggling strands fell around his ears and the back of his neck. Magnus's fingers itched to play with it.

Alec smiled, his face soft and open. “I haven’t called yet, because I wasn’t really sure about it, but I think I will. I really want it. I’ve always wanted a place like that, ever since I was little. I just…”

He trailed off, his eyes wide and glued to the screen.

Magnus reluctantly cast his gaze to the movie.

The two boys, covered in paint and laying on the floor, were kissing. Hard.

 _Oh,_ Magnus almost said, _I did not plan this._

Alec carefully set the laptop on the end table. He stared at the screen for a moment, and Magnus watched him with bated breath.

Magnus sat up. “Catarina probably planned that.” He said.

Alec laughed, shining eyes sliding over to settle on Magnus. “Thank her for me.” he said. He turned to Magnus, took him by the shoulders, and kissed him.

Alec climbed onto Magnus’s lap, his hands everywhere. He didn’t seem to understand calm, controlled kissing; every time their lips touched, it felt like he was always pressing for more and more. He kissed with a barely contained urgency.

Not that Magnus was complaining.

Alec’s hands went to the hem of Magnus’s shirt and he grabbed fistfuls of the material. After a cautious pause, he lifted it up a little, asking. Magnus nodded, breaking the kiss for a moment, and he lifted his arms to help.

Alec’s hands glided up Magnus’s skin as he pulled the shirt off, his fingertips just brushing Magnus’s stomach. It came up over Magnus’s head and Alec dropped it beside them on the couch.

Alec took a moment to look at Magnus, not meeting his eyes, then he was kissing him again like he hadn’t stopped.

He touched Magnus’s stomach, a new, surprisingly intimate feeling. His fingers spread wide, like he was testing boundaries. He took Magnus by the neck with his other hand. He kissed with all of his jaw, letting it jut forward and then soften, frustrating Magnus with aggressive shoves and then teasingly receding, making Magnus growl and pull Alec tight to him with needy hands.

Alec grinded down on Magnus with just enough pressure to make Magnus groan, like he knew just how it felt for Magnus, like they did this all the time. He grabbed Magnus’s chin and held him just how he wanted him. He kissed Magnus softly, then sucked on and nipped at his lower lip

Alec’s hoodie was an annoying barrier between them.

Magnus ran his hands over Alec’s back and rucked his hoodie up. He slid his hands up Alec’s back and traced the path of his arced spine

He pushed more, baring the lower half of Alec’s stomach, and Alec tensed under his hands.

“Can I take this off?” Magnus asked, his voice muffled against Alec’s lips. Alec sat back, breathing hard. Magnus swallowed past the dryness in his throat. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Alec said, his eyes flickering up and meeting Magnus’s. He nodded, and he lifted his arms for Magnus to easily slide the hoodie off.

Magnus did. A t-shirt underneath came off next. He dropped both to the floor and he placed his palms on Alec’s bare, heaving chest. He met Alec’s eyes.

“You’re beautiful, Alexander,” he said.

He knew what he wanted to do to Alec. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Alec looked down. He twisted his hands together in his lap.

“Alec,”

Alec looked up again, eyes wide and electrified. “Yeah?”

Magnus traced the lines of Alec’s chest. He didn’t think he would ever get over how beautiful Alec’s chest was. How beautiful Alec was. His pale skin flushed where Magnus touched it, like fire was coming up from underneath. His ribs surfaced to visibility with every shaky inhale of breath, like they wanted to be noticed, like they wanted to be acknowledged for keeping Alec alive. Magnus traced them, too.

Magnus ran his fingers along the skin just along the waistband of Alec’s sweatpants, and Alec shuddered.

“Hey,” Magnus licked his lips. “Can I blow you?”

“What-” Alec sucked a breath in, and he ran a hand over his ruined hair. “You- I mean, do you-” he stammered. He took in another deep, shaky breath. He swallowed hard, and Magnus watched the shifting of his throat.

Alec looked away. “Do you want to?”

Magnus ducked his head, placing himself in Alec’s line of sight. He held Alec’s gaze, unwavering. “I want to, Alec. I really do.”

Alec nodded. His erratic pulse was visible under his jaw.

“Here,” Magnus said softly, lifting Alec off of him and setting him beside him. He slid off the couch, got onto his knees, and set his palms on Alec’s thighs.

Alec’s lay his hands at his sides, like he didn’t know what to do with them.

Magnus ran his hands up Alec’s thighs and he lightly touched him. Alec watched Magnus’s hands, and he clutched at the couch cushions like he was bracing himself for something.

Magnus leaned forward. He kissed Alec’s stomach. He hooked his fingers over Alec’s sweatpants and slowly pulled them down to his knees, kissing each inch of skin as he laid it bare.

Alec let out a small sigh. He shifted, giving Magnus more room.

Magnus traced the hard outline of Alec’s cock through his boxers. “Fuck, Alec,” he said, “you’re big.”

Magnus usually told boys this lazily, distractedly; just to say something before they fucked. He wasn’t always lying, but usually he wasn’t struck with awe or concerned with letting them know what he thought. Usually it was something he said to get them hard and boost their ego so that self-consciousness didn’t affect their performance. He didn't have the time or patience for that.

But _Alec…_ Magnus wanted Alec to know everything.

“You know that, don’t you?” Magnus said, tentatively palming him. “Don’t you.”

Alec didn’t reply but for an incomprehensible murmur. Magnus looked up at him.

Alec had his mouth clamped shut, and he looked almost like he had stopped breathing. The flush in his cheeks was steadily spreading to his pale chest.

“Are you okay with this?” Magnus asked. He stilled his hand. “I can stop.”

Alec shook his head. “I’m okay.”

“You seem a little tense.”

“It’s- I’m fine.”

“Alec,” Magnus said, “it’s me. Just me. Breathe, okay?”

Alec let out a long, shaky breath.

“It’s not you, I’ve just- I’ve kind of taught myself to keep quiet when I- you know.”

“Oh, you- when you touch yourself?” Magnus asked. He was liking this conversation.

“Yeah. Because I’m- I’ve always had to be quiet about other things. I mean, anyone would be quiet about… this.”

“You don’t have to be quiet now.” Magnus told him.

“Well I-” Alec did a half-shrug, “I don’t know how not to.

Magnus laughed, a little. "You’ll figure it out.” He folded Alec’s boxers down an inch. “Okay?” He said.

Alec nodded.

Magnus pushed the boxers the rest of the way down, and he let out a little huff of breath. Alec shifted again, nervous, and Magnus hooked a hand around his knee and tugged him forward.

Magnus shook his head, still staring. He knew that he needed to stop.

He dropped his head and gently kissed the inside of Alec’s thigh. Alec made a small, surprised noise, and Magnus continued upwards, listening to how Alec’s breath changed with every inch closer.

Magnus reached the base of Alec’s dick - he let his lips graze it, the coarse hairs underneath tickling his chin - then kissed back down Alec’s thigh when he gasped.

Magnus reached up blindly and began to slowly stroke Alec, feeling his length and trying to find a rhythm Alec liked. He sucked and bit on the inner span of Alec’s thigh, timing the strokes to every time his lips or teeth closed.

Magnus drug his mouth back up and looked up to see Alec; Alec had one hand fisted in his bun, like he was holding himself back. The other still dug into the couch.

 _Come undone,_ Magnus thought. He held Alec’s eyes. _Let everything go._ He brought Alec’s cock near his open mouth and let his hot breath ghost over the head. He watched Alec’s face closely, and his own heart tripped; he couldn’t believe how nervous he was.

“Put your hand in my hair,” he murmured, stroking Alec slowly, holding him just at the edge of his lips. “And tell me what you like. Tell me what feels good.”

Alec didn’t need to be told twice; he was desperate to have something to do with himself. He slid his hand into Magnus’s hair, his hesitant fingers curling at the back of Magnus’s head.

Magnus smiled, _good boy,_ and he pressed his lips to the base of the shaft in a slack, open-mouthed kiss. Alec made a small noise that quickly turned into a groan as Magnus licked flat-tongued up to the head.

Alec’s fist in Magnus’s hair tightened, and he twisted, pushing Magnus’s mouth closer.

Magnus obliged, and he dug his nails into Alec’s thighs to hold him still as he swallowed him down.

Alec made a strangled sound. The shocked rush of breath out of him was easily audible to Magnus.

Magnus tried not to smile. Teeth didn’t do well to make appearances in these situations.

He pushed further, taking Alec all the way in, and drew back again, lips tight. He came to the head and tongued the slit, teasing. “Tell me,” he said, looking up at Alec. “What you like.”

“That,” Alec said, voice shy but rough. “What you’re- oh, fuck, that.”

His hand tightened and he pushed needfully as Magnus took him in again. Magnus dug his nails into Alec’s thighs to hold him still but he let Alec direct him, listening to the demands of his unsure hands and the catches in his breaths and the shakiness of his moans.

Magnus knew Alec wouldn’t last long, not this time. Already Alec felt incredibly tense and hot in his mouth. He bobbed his head, fast now, sucking hard on the tip every time he came up. He was shamelessly enjoying the various sounds Alec made.

But Alec still didn’t make as much noise as Magnus knew he wanted to; he didn’t make as much noise as _Magnus_ wanted him to.

 _I’ll work on that later,_ he promised himself.

Alec twitched in his mouth, and he tugged so roughly on his hair that Magnus moaned, the vibration making Alec whine. Alec’s hips stuttered involuntarily, and Magnus held him down. He tilted his chin and let his jaw go completely slack, not giving up an inch. Alec twitched in his mouth again, and Magnus took Alec into the very back of his throat as he came. Hot cum shot down his throat, and he swallowed, making sure to make noise; he wanted Alec paying close attention to what he was doing, and how much he liked doing it. Alec’s hand in Magnus’s hair went limp. He shuddered and let out stuttering breaths as Magnus slowly drew away. Magnus could feel Alec’s entire body trembling against him and under his hands. He released him and looked up.

Alec stared at Magnus, his mouth hanging open, blue eyes blinking vapidly. His pupils were blown wide, the black almost obliterating the blue.

“You… Magnus, you…”

Magnus carefully pulled Alec’s boxers and sweatpants back up into place. He sat back on his knees and held Alec’s eyes as he wiped the back of the hand over his mouth. He felt warmth drip down onto his chest.

“Did you like that?” he asked, voice sweet and slow.

Alec laughed shakily. Everything about him was shaky. “Y-yeah, I did. I never thought that it would feel that good. And you-” Alec looked away, a new layer of blush coloring his cheeks. “You’re really good at that. You, um, you swallowed it. My- you know.”

Magnus grinned. He stood up and leaned over Alec, one hand supporting on either side of Alec’s head. He pressed his forehead against Alec’s so that their lips were millimeters apart. Alec’s rushed huff of breath blew across Magnus’s wet lips.

“You taste good,” Magnus whispered, “and it felt so good to do that to you, you have no idea.”

He was going to press his lips to Alec’s, but Alec was already there; his still unsteady hands found the back of Magnus’s neck and pulled him close, and his lips parted Magnus’s to taste for himself. Magnus could feel Alec’s heartbeat tapping on his tongue.

Magnus crawled onto the couch but he stayed beside Alec; he didn’t want to go too far too quickly. He held Alec’s chin in his hands and kissed him until he couldn’t breathe. He kissed him until Alec felt solid and sure again.

“Magnus,” said Alec. He said _Magnus_ like it was so much more than a name, like it was something with weight and worth to it. Alec’s voice was low and throaty and high with pleasure. The sound of it caused Magnus’s racing heart to drop to his twisting stomach and get lost there.

“Magnus,” Alec said again, and this time he pulled away. He looked down at his own chest, one hand held against Magnus’s chest, the other holding his shoulder loosely.

“Thanks,” Alec said softly. “For- for what you just did, and for everything else.”

Magnus didn’t ask what _everything else_ meant; he understood Alec perfectly. “You’re welcome, Alexander, but I like doing it. Everything- you’re not the only one benefiting from this. I like you. I like doing things with you. I want you with me.”

Alec bit his lip; Magnus watched the skin go from pale pink to white.

Magnus sat back. Alec sat up, too, his gaze level.

“Hey,” Magnus said.

“Hey,” Alec said.

Magnus took one of Alec’s hands and played with his fingers. “So you know how I throw parties. A lot. And you’re not a party person.”

Alec played back. There was a dazed look on his face; something between smiling and sighing. “I know.”

“So I’m throwing a party this weekend. And if- if you would go, I’d love for you to be here, of course. But don’t feel like you have to if you don’t want to. Only if you want to.”

Alec shrugged. “I think… I might like going to a party if you’re there. If I’m with you.”

“Really?” Magnus said.

Alec smiled, and the skin by the corners of his eyes crinkled endearingly. “ _Really._ ”


	7. mc ch7

malec college au chapter 7

word count - 5.2k

my lovely beta reader - [@glitterycateyes](http://tmblr.co/muspDYgtToxC6JgcTPpaz6g)

hope you like it!! :-) 

________

As Alec had proclaimed many times before, he was not a party person. 

Parties were for the self-assured, the confident, the daring and loud living; those that were unlike Alec in every way.

Everything that was attractive to him about parties - the mingling of strangers, the murderous pound of music, the blaring of sirens signaling something gone too far - set his heartbeat askew. Tripped every nerve in haste to signal anticipation of unknown danger.

He didn’t know what this meant about him and Magnus. 

_Him and Magnus._ They had become that, somehow. Alec tried out thinking the word ‘boyfriend’. He wasn’t sure if he would get used to it.

Magnus’s party was in less than an hour. Alec stared at himself in the dirty mirror of the shared dorm bathroom. 

He didn’t know how to want someone when that someone wanted him back. He was so used to loving someone - to loving Jace - and never expecting anything in return. Never expecting anything to become more.

The synapses in his brain were panicking with the stress of processing the possibilities of what could happen.

He tried to explain these feelings to himself, but it wasn’t an easy thing to do. It seemed that every simple and sure thing was now different, from the moment Magnus’s lips had touched his, from the moment Alec knew him. Alec forgot how to fall asleep without smiling, forgot how to walk without a skip to his step, he forgot how to close his eyes without seeing Magnus painted across the back of their lids. He learned anew that the world was more bright and beautiful than he had ever realized.

He didn’t know what to do with all of this light. _Go blind?_

And he didn’t know why he was staring at himself in the mirror. He didn’t have a hair brush, so nothing was going to happen to the mess of a bun at the back of his neck. His lip ring wasn’t extravagant or even exciting, just a black piece of curved metal. His clothes looked like they always did; colorless, rumpled. His perpetual eye shadows loomed in their usual depth and shade, hanging under his eyes like sore accessories. 

Alec pressed his fingers into the dark spots, wishing they’d sink away, and leaned his elbows on the counter. _Blue eyes,_ Magnus had called him. He watched his pale reflection blush. 

He traced the line of his jaw with his finger, then skipped up and across to his lips. He rubbed his thumb over them, checking to see if they were soft. Kissable.

Alec thought about Magnus sitting beside him, their knees touching, saying, _And you like doing this? Kissing me?_

 _Yeah, Magnus,_ Alec thought, _I like it. A lot._

Alec stood up straight, still watching his reflection as he felt his pockets for his car keys and phone. He thumbed the cool metal of the key while he debated checking his phone, though he didn’t need to. He knew that he should leave for Magnus’s party now. He knew that there were unanswered texts from Jace, and he knew that the right thing to do was to lie to both Jace and Jordan and say that he’s busy studying. He knew that it was wrong to leave people waiting.

But it seemed he couldn’t bear to do the latter; all he could think about was Magnus.  
Alec shrugged at his reflection. He purposelessly ran his hand over his hair again. He again played with his car keys. The cool metal bit into his palm like a promise.

__________

At precisely the same time that Alec was hopelessly messing with his hair, Magnus had just finished setting up the last alcohol keg. It wasn’t an elaborate picture, but the cheap kegs huddled together, surrounded by stacks of red and blue plastic cups, had taken immense effort to arrange.

Magnus, bent over with the aforementioned immense effort, wiped his clammy palms on his thighs. He looked forlornly at his chipped nail polish. “Sorry,” he said to it.

Raphael, sitting on the kitchen counter, looked up from his cereal. “This is why I prefer not to be alone with you.” He informed Magnus. “You’re talking to yourself again. It’s getting annoying.” Being more underage than the average underage college student, he wasn’t attending Magnus’s alcohol and drug inclusive party; he was going to study in Magnus’s bedroom.

Magnus promised to periodically bring him chips and soda. Catarina, who was decidedly not a fan of Magnus’s parties after attending a particularly wild one that involved a stolen life-sized Barbie doll and an attempted satanic ritual, would be over soon to sit with Raphael and guard Magnus’s bed from intruding couples. 

Ragnor, who was largely a fan of almost anything illegal, would most likely be one half of a couple that Catarina would be pushing away. He’d be over later, late as always, trailing along drugs and drinks, druggies and drinkers. 

The group of them had worked out a nice system over the past few years. 

Magnus said, “Well, it’s not like you’re entertaining me. I prefer my _endlessly_ intriguing self to your moody teenage tendencies.”

Raphael ignored this. He ignored much of what Magnus said and did. Always the scholar and never the socialist, he leaned down to write on one of the many papers he had spread on the counter.

Magnus found the bottle that belonged to the nail polish he currently wore tucked under a magazine on the coffee table, and he sat near Raphael on the opposite counter. He repainted his nails, watching with satisfaction as the chips disappeared and became smooth and solid. He enjoyed feeling finished; the dark cobalt paint complimented both his eye makeup and his shirt perfectly.

Magnus looked over at his friend. Raphael was completely absorbed in his textbook, his thin mouth unselfconsciously hanging open, eyes low-lidded, usually tidy hair falling just to his ears in unbrushed curls. 

Magnus spared one moment to think of the assignments piling up from all his classes. He spared a second to evaluate his grades so far this semester. He spared another to carelessly blow on his nails. “What’re you going to do?” He asked Raphael.

Raphael didn’t respond. Magnus knew he wasn’t studiously ignoring him; it was just that he was so caught by his work that nothing else easily registered in his mind. 

Magnus swung a leg out and nudged Raphael’s hanging ankle. “Raphael,”

“Yes? What,” Raphael said, looking over, his eyes slowly coming to focus on Magnus’s face. “What am I doing? I’m studying. Obviously.”

“I mean,” Magnus said, and nudged Raphael’s ankle again, “for a job. For the real world. What’s all the studying for? You’ve never told me, really.”

Raphael shrugged. “That’s because I don’t know.” He laughed, a little. “I really have no idea. I don’t know what interests me.”

Magnus tried not to look shocked. All the time he’d known Raphael, he’d assumed the younger boy already had everything figured out. Assumed that being so smart meant you were past everyone else, on some level above all the struggling, lost kids. “But you take all these extra classes.” He argued. “That can’t be just for fun. I know you’re a nerd, but you’re not _that_ nerdy.”

“It keeps me busy,” Raphael said, “and, I don’t know, it’s easy to do. It’s just that I don’t find any of it interesting. I don’t want- I don’t like it.”

“I thought that you were going to be a doctor. Invent, like, cures for weird diseases. Or robotic body parts.”

Raphael made a face. “I have no interest in blood. Or people’s messed up bodies. I don’t know if I even want to do anything.”

“Hey,” Magnus said, his eyes catching on the tightness of Raphael’s jaw. “You’re fifteen, and you’re smart. Really smart. It gets annoying. _I_ hardly know what I’m doing, and I’m almost nineteen. You’re fine. You’re going to save the world someday, or something like that.”

Raphael hopped off the counter. “Yeah, I’ll fix the whole mess. Like, this-” He gestured to Magnus’s sparse apartment; besides a small fabric couch, a coffee table, the beer kegs, a torn t-shirt and a shoe hanging from the ceiling fan, and closed doors leading to bath and bedrooms, it was devoid of any decoration.

“Are you planning on doing something else? Or at least cleaning it up? I expect better, aren’t you supposed to be some historic fashion designer? Take my well sought after advice: your place is depressing, fix it.”

Magnus knew he was being diverted, but he allowed it. He muttered, “History major with an _interest_ in fashion design. _Interests_ are nice to have.”

Raphael rolled his eyes and pawed the fridge open. He looked around the inside for a moment, the ghostly fluorescents casting a plastic sheen over his features, before letting it shut and falling against the counter. Raphael splayed his fingers along his stomach and clutched the material of his sweater, causing it to ride up. “What I’m interested in is not starving to death. When’s Catarina getting here? She told me she’d bring snacks.”

Magnus checked the time on his phone, telling himself he was only counting the minutes until Catarina got here, telling himself that he wasn’t obsessing over Alec. “Any minute. She was picking up her friend from class last I talked to her, but that was a while ago.”

Raphael straightened. “Oh, Clary?” he said, and made a face. “Catarina took me to a poetry reading with her. She is even smaller than I am.” He bent down and held his hand a few inches above the ground, as if he were petting a particularly small dog.

“That small?” Magnus said, hopping off the counter and looking around for Catarina’s laptop; he hadn’t seen her since the night Alec had last come over, and the responsibility of keeping it safe until she would be here was making his head ache.

“That small,” Raphael said gravely. “I don’t understand how all of her organs fit inside.” 

“Maybe that could be your _interest,_ ” Magnus teased, “studying small Clary’s.” He spotted the laptop, hiding between the couch cushions, and went to quickly put it in his bedroom. When he walked back out, Raphael was smirking.  
  
“I never asked: did you and Alexander like the movie?”

Magnus tapped his knuckles on the counter top. “Yeah. It was- it was nice. A nice movie.” He thought about Alec pushing the laptop away, turning to him with that look in his eyes. 

“Really?” Raphael said, “would you recommend it?”

Magnus shook his head solemnly, though the corners of his mouth threatened to turn upwards. “Yeah, but not to you. Thirteen and older, sorry.”

“I’m not twelve-” Raphael began, beginning to smile at the start of this recurring argument, but cut himself off as the door swung open. 

“Catarina, my beautiful friend,” Magnus greeted grandly, sweeping through the living room to kiss her cheek. Closing the door behind her, an admittedly very short and pale red headed girl - Clary, Magnus inferred - offered a shy smile and clutched a thick notebook to her chest. 

Catarina patted Magnus’s cheek, then skipped across the room to hug Raphael. He resisted, but Magnus saw the adoring smile growing on his face as he awkwardly patted her back. 

“Boys,” she said, and took the redhead’s hand. Behind the new girls back, Magnus gestured to the floor and mouthed at Raphael, _That small._ “This is Clary.”

“Hello, Clary,” Magnus said, while Raphael just nodded. Magnus ran a hand over his hair, checking for imperfections. _Soon._ “Will you be staying for the party?

_________

Alec found himself alone in a mix of familiarity and unfamiliarity. He rested a hand on Magnus’s sofa - familiar - and looked around at the raging partygoers around him - unfamiliar. 

He had hoped to appear casual, at ease, when he walked in. He took a plastic cup of cheap alcohol and began his act by leaning against the wall, trying not to look like a lost child as he scanned the crowd for Magnus. 

Apparently Magnus’s couldn’t be found along walls. Alec didn’t know what he expected; for Magnus to come out of nowhere, probably, popping up like magic, like no one else could. 

Alec sighed and played with his cup. He was so unsure of what to do he debated going home. He wondered if he should text Magnus; he wondered if that would be too overbearing.

Someone bumped into him, slurred an apology. Alec swallowed; his nerves were making his stomach turn. He turned to go-

Magnus’s voice sounded just at his ear, so close it tickled his skin. “Alexander,” 

Alec turned to him, feeling already the pooling warmth Magnus’s presence seemed to always cause.

“You came.” Magnus said. He reached down and touched Alec’s hand, ran his fingers along the upturned palm. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“I said I would.” Alec held Magnus’s wrist, pulled him just a fraction of an inch closer. Though pounding music made the floor and walls shake, though every few moments Alec was brushed by a dancing body, the darkness made it feel like they were alone. 

He slid his hand up from Magnus’s wrist to his cheek, ran his thumb along the high bone. In the steep lighting, Magnus was accented by hues of black and gray, the shadows skipping only his eyes; gold and green, throwing around reckless flames. 

Alec didn’t have to lean in. His touch must’ve been enough. Or the slight change in his breath against Magnus’s chest. _He knows what I want just by feeling me._ Magnus let his eyes fall closed, and he pressed a hand to Alec’s throat as he kissed him.

Alec tilted his head up to meet Magnus’s height and took him by the back of the neck, pulled him down. 

Magnus breathed a word, or a sigh, and it fluttered down Alec’s throat, lodged there and made it harder for him to breathe. _Of course I came,_ Alec wanted to say. He slid a hand into Magnus’s hair. _It’s you._

He tilted his jaw up, making Magnus crane his neck, and slid his tongue along Magnus’s briefly. Magnus groaned, and Alec leaned back, catching Magnus’s lower lip between his teeth. 

Magnus almost shook against him; Alec could feel him teetering on the line of losing it. Magnus kissed him, hard, his teeth coming out to tease and bite, catching and pulling, demanding.

Alec drew a gasping breath from Magnus’s throat, but Magnus was already breaking away. 

“Do you-” Magnus swallowed. He licked his lips. “Want to do some shots?”

“Shots?” Alec already felt intoxicated enough. _His hands. His breath._

“Yeah,” Magnus ducked his head and looked up at Alec through painted eyelashes. “And since this is your first real party, I thought we could play a party game, you know, so that you get the full experience.”

Alec grinned; he felt stupidly giddy. “I can’t miss out on that.”

Magnus mirrored him, teeth flashing, and he pulled Alec by the hand into the kitchen. 

He leaned over the counter - the same counter Alec had pushed him against to kiss him - and pulled out a plate of lime slices, a shaker of salt, a bottle of tequila, and two shot glasses. Magnus poured the tequila into the glasses, handed Alec one along with a lime, and turned to him, holding his own and smiling. “I hid it from everyone else, so feel free to get as drunk as you want; it’s all ours.”

Alec didn’t say, _I’ve never been drunk before._ He didn’t worry that he’d embarrass himself, that he’d do something wrong. He stepped closer. “How do you play?

“Like,” Magnus leaned in, mouth slanted down to Alec’s collarbone, and Alec tilted his head automatically, giving Magnus easy access to his neck. Magnus kissed his collarbone, feather soft, then traced his tongue along the line of it and licked up to his jaw. Alec shuddered, and he refrained from pulling Magnus into him as Magnus methodically sprinkled the salt onto his chilled skin. Magnus grinned and licked the salt from Alec’s neck, causing galaxies to expand and explode inside of him, then knocked a shot back and shoved a lime wedge into his mouth, wincing. Magnus spoke around the lime: “Like this.”

Alec laughed, albeit a bit shakily. Magnus simply leaning into him for a game was having much more of an effect on him than he had expected; like his tongue started a fire that was consuming every molecule of Alec’s body, inch by slow downwards inch. 

“My turn?” Alec asked, raising his voice just so that it could be heard over the music and talk. 

Magnus tossed the lime wedge to the counter, his face now unencumbered by its acid. “Yeah,” he said, swallowing hard. He ran a hand over his perfect hair; Alec wanted so badly to crush it into his fists. 

Alec stared at Magnus for a moment, transfixed. He was enthralling in this light, just as he always was, but wilder, with flushed cheeks and wide, painted eyes. His soft, lingering smile made Alec feel as if his heart might stop.

Alec leaned in. He kissed Magnus’s collarbone, then carefully licked up, stopping at his jaw and kissing him there, too, when he sighed. He sprinkled the salt, watching Magnus’s pulse point, and licked it away.

Alec put the salt down. He threw the shot back and winced at the expected searing down his throat. He sucked on the lime, though already the sting didn’t bother him anymore; all he could think about was Magnus laughing, Magnus’s eyes smiling into his, holding that insane light.

And maybe he just liked a little fire.

Alec let out a low, shaky breath. “Another.” he said. 

They did it again. And again. And again. 

They didn’t stop until breathing didn’t feel the same. Until Alec felt a different kind of searing under every inch of his skin. They didn’t stop until Alec felt like something new had unfurled in his chest.

He curled into Magnus, dizzy, the both of them laughing, for one last salty lick. Alec closed his eyes, Magnus’s pulse wild on his tongue-

Jace’s voice, unmistakable, sounded from directly in front of him. “Alec?” 

Alec’s throat went dry. Magnus’s hands, where they had been carding through his hair and pulling on his arm, stilled; he didn’t know Jace, or know anything about him, really, but Alec knew that Magnus could feel the sudden, jumping tension. He knew that, from this moment on, Magnus couldn’t be held in the dark anymore, as a secret, safely hidden in non-correlating schedules and white lies. 

And as he straightened, Alec knew Magnus could read every fear and tumult plain on his face. 

“Hey, Jace,” Alec’s voice sounded wrong to his own ears, inhuman. He blinked. He cleared his throat, trying to speak past the sand like dryness. Jordan, behind Jace and sloshing beer from a cup as he danced in place, gave Alec one of his smiles. “And- and Jordan. What’s up?”

He cursed himself, silently, for his naiveté. Of course the party that Jace and Jordan had said they were going to was the same party that Magnus was throwing. Of course Jordan was here; he had invited Alec. Of course Jace was with him. Of course the both of them had just seen Alec laughing into Magnus Bane like he was all that mattered in the world.

How could he have been so _stupid?_

Jace unfroze and walked up to him. He didn’t so much as glance at Magnus. “Alec?” He said, voice stretched thin with concern. He grasped Alec’s shoulder. “Are you- what are you doing?”

“I’m-” Alec swallowed, the alcohol still burning down his throat, hacking away at his words. He looked away, not meeting Jace’s eyes, or Jordan’s, or Magnus’s. He tried to make himself speak. Tried to explain, but only choked out nothing’s came out. _He knows he knows he knows-_

Alec watched Magnus’s expensive looking boot step forward. 

“He’s drunk, forgive-” Magnus waved a ringed hand at Alec. As he withdrew it, he ran it lightly, reassuringly, down Alec’s back where the other boys couldn’t see. “This. It happens to the best of us.” 

_I’m not drunk,_ Alec wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried not to look stiff and panicked.

Jace said to Magnus, “Who are you?” 

“Magnus Bane. Thrower of this party. Wearer of tasteful clothes.” Magnus was using his grand voice, the voice that turned heads, that turned whole crowds. That convinced the wind to hold its breath. The voice that, it seemed, no one could resist. “You know, I could help you with your hair. That color, those waves… you can use it to your advantage.”

“What? My hair? No, thanks. Alec.” Jace stepped closer, and held Alec’s eyes. “Who is this?”

“Magnus,” Alec said. “He just said that.” He pressed a hand to his pounding forehead. “He’s- he’s Magnus. We’re just- I wanted to do shots.”

“You just…” Jace trailed off. His eyes were watery, and he was flushed; he stumbled a little as he set a hand on Alec’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you text me?”

“Oh.” Alec said. He realized that Jace was much less than sober, and almost fell apart with relief. “It broke.”

Jace nodded gravely. “You should fix that. Okay. See ya later.” He turned abruptly and disappeared, Jordan trailing after him like a love-struck puppy.

Alec turned to Magnus, who looked as if he were about to explode into laughter. “His hair?” Alec asked. He almost felt how Magnus looked.

Magnus ran a hand over his own, eyebrows knitted together with the effort to keep a straight face. “Even I panic sometimes, Alexander.”

Alec let out a tight breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He reached for Magnus’s hand. “Thanks. God. At least he’s-”

Magnus turned suddenly away from  
him to look down at a boy that had grabbed him firmly by the wrist. 

Alec looked. He remembered him from Pottery class.

Raphael was visibly shaking, staring up at Magnus with wide, unseeing eyes.

“Take me home,” Raphael said. He stood as close as he possibly could to Magnus, so that no passing partygoer touched him. Alec watched the way he did this, like he was a child; he watched the way Magnus stood over Raphael, too, the way he seemed to protect him like a living armor.  
Raphael closed his eyes. “Catarina left and I- I need to too. I have to go.”

“Raphael,” Magnus said, voice slow, but not with alcohol; Alec could tell by the dulling of excitement and light in his face as he looked into his friends eyes. 

Magnus turned to Alec. Alec had stopped grinning, and his hands hung limp at his sides as he stared at Raphael. He knew that he looked like the dread. He knew that Magnus didn’t need anymore of it.

_Someone so young shouldn’t be able to have such a troubled face._

Magnus said in a whisper, “Something’s wrong. I don’t know. I have to-”  
Alec nodded. 

Magnus pulled Raphael into his chest, one arm over his bowed shoulder, the other wrist still in his grasp. “It’s okay.” He said. To Alec, he added, distractedly, “I’ll call you.”

Alec nodded again. Lost, he leaned in and kissed Magnus on the cheek, a new kind of tenderness he hadn’t gotten to try out yet. Magnus met Alec’s eyes, and then Alec let himself melt into the crowd.  
________

Magnus shut the car door, enclosing him and Raphael in silence. There was a tenseness in the air he was almost afraid to disturb.

Raphael stared stonily at the dashboard. “Don’t tell Catarina.” he said.

Magnus held the keys near the ignition but didn’t start the car. “I don’t know what there is to tell. Where did she-”

“She left. Early. With some girl. They were both a little drunk, and laughing. I told her she could go. She wasn’t- she was happy. She wasn’t stressed over school for once.”

Magnus waited. Raphael’s voice was rising and falling between words, cracking and then shaking as he tried to steady it.

“I stayed in your room, just studying. I did not want to leave it. I mean, I never do, at your parties. So I stayed. And then a boy came in. Alone, which at first I thought was just strange. Because- you know. Usually they’re couples. And he- he closed the door and came and sat beside me.”

Magnus’s lungs were slowly collapsing inside his chest. A feeling of rot began to take over. 

“He said- he asked me, ‘What are you doing in here?’ and I told him I’m studying. And he- he put his hand on my leg and kept talking and talking and he didn’t leave and he wanted to do… stuff.”

“Do you remember what he looks like?” Magnus asked. “Could you pick him out of a group?”

Raphael went on as if he hadn’t heard Magnus. His voice was devoid of emotion. “I said no, but he didn’t listen, I guess. He kissed me and did some stuff, but then he just stopped. He just stopped and got up and left without saying anything.”

“Why didn’t you come get me?” Magnus asked. His breaths forced one another in and out, raggedly, like they were reluctant to do his bidding. 

Raphael looked utterly calm. He stared ahead and was silent. Maybe he hadn’t heard Magnus.

“Raphael,”

Raphael’s fists clenched and unclenched on the car seat. “What.”

“Why didn’t you come get me?”

Raphael didn’t answer. 

Magnus ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t feel the buzz of alcohol in his veins anymore, or Alec’s laughing mouth on his neck. He just felt sick.

He hung over the steering wheel, head resting on his arm as he looked at Raphael. He waited. 

Raphael traced the stitching of the seats interior. “I wanted it to be nothing.” He said. “He left, and I didn’t feel right, so I studied for a while. I did two practice tests, and when I thought I was okay I went and found you.”

“But you weren’t okay.” Stating it so simply made something in Raphael’s face crumple. “That guy might have done something really bad.”

Raphael’s features shifted into an impossible smile, but there was still something off about it, something wrong under his eyes and in the lines of his mouth.

“Really bad,” he said softly, breathing out on a sigh, “like rape me? Because I would learn to like it?”

Magnus shifted in his seat. “You don’t really talk about that, with me. About- about you being ace. Did someone ever do anything to you? Do you want to… talk about it?”

That smile again. “I wasn’t raped. No. But someone got close to it once. Friend of dad’s. It was a game to them. They wanted to fix me.”

“You don’t need to be fixed,” Magnus said, “because you’re not broken. They can’t see that.”

Raphael turned to the window. “They don’t want to see it.”

________

When Magnus walked into his apartment, he found he wasn’t alone.

Alec stepped out of the shadows.

“Sorry.” he said, his voice rough with uncertainty. “I was going to leave, but… I wanted to make sure everything is okay.”

Alec stood near the couch, with a trash bag full to bursting in one hand, a crumpled plastic cup in the other. Magnus walked up to him. He pushed a sweaty hank of Alec’s hair behind his ear, then dropped his hand to brush Alec’s wrist. “Are you cleaning?”

“Yeah,” Alec shoved the cup into the bag and reached for another on the coffee table. “Everyone left the place in a mess, and I knew that whatever was happening with Raphael wasn’t good, so I just cleaned while I waited. I couldn’t find a Swiffer, though, or any other cleaning supplies, so it’s still kind of dirty.”

Magnus smiled. He took the bag from Alec’s hands, set it down, and eased Alec onto the couch. “I’m not organized enough to own cleaning supplies. I just use water and paper towels; it strengthens the immune system.” He sat beside him, their legs comfortably pressing together. 

Alec leaned back, and after a quiet moment he pulled Magnus into him so that his face rested in the crook of Magnus’s shoulder. Magnus could feel Alec’s words more than he could hear them: “Do you want to talk about it? Raphael, I mean, not the cleaning supplies and your unorganized life style.”

“Yeah,” Magnus said, “there’s not really much to say. I’m just worried about him. Usually at my parties he stays in my room with Catarina, but tonight Catarina left with some girl, so he was alone. This guy went in. And-you can know that Raphael’s asexual. He doesn’t talk about it, but he is. And he doesn’t like people, he doesn’t like anything new that he can’t control. And he’s not smart with life like he is with books. So the guy went in there and Raphael just- didn’t do much about it.”

Alec tensed. “Did the guy do anything to him?” 

“He kissed Raphael, and then Raphael said he did some other stuff but he wouldn’t tell me. I don’t think it went really far, but still.”

“It’s still a big deal,” Alec said softly, and he kissed Magnus’s cheek. “Where’d you take Raphael?” 

“Home,” Magnus said. “I met him through school, not foster care, so he lives with his mom and I don’t know how many siblings. So he’s okay now. I’ll probably… I’ll talk to him about it later.”

“That’s good.” Alec said. 

Magnus nodded. He closed his eyes. Alec was so warm, and he felt perfectly in place pressed against Magnus. 

“You don’t have to leave,” Magnus told him. “What time is it?”

“A little past two,” Alec said.

“You shouldn’t drive. I was fine to, but it’s late and- have you ever drank before? I should’ve asked.”

“No,” Alec admitted, sounding almost sheepish. 

Magnus shifted to get up. “You can sleep in my bed, and I’ll sleep out here, if you want. I’ll-”

“No,” Alec said, and he grabbed Magnus by the arm. “Just stay here.” 

Magnus heart jumped, and he let Alec pull him down onto the couch, into the curve of his arms. 

Alec dangled an arm over Magnus’s side, and Magnus rested his head on Alec’s chest.

He thought, _I haven’t felt like this in a long time,_

Alec’s heart beat pounded swiftly, reassuringly, against his cheek. “Goodnight,” Alec whispered.

_I’ve never felt like this._


End file.
